


Nothing New Under the Sun

by the_dala



Category: Pirates of the Caribbean (Movies)
Genre: Crack, F/M, Fluff, Humor, M/M, Mpreg
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-04-20
Updated: 2015-04-21
Packaged: 2018-03-24 22:04:35
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 8
Words: 25,438
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3785926
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/the_dala/pseuds/the_dala
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Will finds himself in a spot of trouble. As usual, it's all Jack's fault.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Originally published May 27th, 2004.
> 
> I'll be honest, this is a very silly fic, almost to the point of parody. I had a lot of deliberate fun with tropes found in bad mpreg, and the island tribe responsible for Will's predicament is a total deus ex machina. It should be good for a giggle if you like that sort of thing. Also, it's unfinished and I currently have no plans to continue it.

It took Jack awhile to relax among the company of the native tribe, but the marvelous stuff they’d given him to drink was a considerable help. They were a friendly sort, and he was beginning to be glad Will had convinced him to stop and take a peek at this tiny island off the eastern coast of Jamaica. It wasn’t plotted on any of his maps but they had seen smoke curling up into the sky. The prospect of trade with a whole unidentified island of people he could swindle was too sweet to pass up, and he was always glad to have fresh fruit on his ship.

Like coconuts. Jack smiled to himself and looked down into the bottom of his drink. It really did taste fantastic and the liquor was strong, whatever it was. Will had consumed nearly as much as he had and the boy was in the best drunken spirits Jack had ever seen. He was whirling about in front of the fire with some of the small islanders whose names Jack couldn’t even begin to pronounce. Under normal circumstances Will couldn’t dance to save his life, but on this night he moved with a strange foreign grace, dipping and twisting and laughing his pretty inebriated head off. 

Taking another sip of his drink, Jack began to feel that watching him wouldn't satisfy; besides which he'd caught a few of the native women giving him sideways glances. No wonder, that, because he was a very finely-formed young man. It certainly shouldn't have been bothersome because Jack provided him with enough entertainment that he had no need to be seeking it elsewhere. Still, much as Will enjoyed their newly appointed sleeping arrangements, he possessed quite a fondness for breasts, and these women had a cultural tendency to go topless. And also to rub themselves all over Jack’s first mate, who was beginning to look mildly interested.

That would _not_ do. Stumbling only a little, Jack set his empty coconut down in the sand and threw himself into the throng of dancers, snagging Will by the elbow.

Beaming at him, the boy looped arms about his neck and planted a messy kiss on his cheek. “Jack! Come to dance with me?”

“Actually,” Jack purred, curving his body against Will’s, “I’ve come to steal you away from all these revelers. Shall we to bed?” He looked again into Will’s glassy eyes and frowned. “If you’ll be able...”

“Oh, I’ll be fine,” said Will breezily as the dancers parted and wove around them. “The interpreter said that whatever was in that pineapple thing is an – an African something?” His face screwed up in thought and Jack grinned.

“An aphrodisiac?”

“Yes, that’s it,” Will replied, actually bouncing a little in his arms. “So, see?” He waved a hand below his waist and pressed tighter against Jack to prove his point.

“Aye,” said Jack with a bit of a growl, “c’mon then.” That explained his own state of affairs as well. He dragged an eager Will through the crowd and across the beach to the little tent they’d been given to sleep in. It was dark and smelled faintly of dead animal, but Jack cared little for anything except Will’s hands fumbling at his clothing. They fell to the ground half-dressed and suffocating each other with kisses as the drumbeats began to pick up in the fire-dance outside.

When the way was finally cleared and Will was flush against him, hot and hard and tasting like that sweet drink all over, Jack couldn’t keep himself from doing some good old-fashioned begging. “God - please, I want you,” he murmured into Will’s ear. “All of you, darlinh, all the time, can’t look at you – can’t bloody _think_ without wantin’ to pin you down an’ fuck you senseless...”

“Jack,” Will cried, his knees parting to let Jack fall between them, his legs sliding up as Jack dug out the oil that never left his jacket pocket. “Love you, I love you –”

His voice rose in a wordless keen when Jack pushed slick fingers into him. A quick twist and Jack was sliding in, clenched by slippery muscle and tight heat. “Love you too, Will,” he panted, proud of himself for managing to say it back this time; Will had an annoying habit of fervently declaring his love when Jack was concentrating on giving him a ride unlike any he’d ever known, and therefore too distracted to reply. He was feeling it now, as Will clutched him hard enough to bruise and lifted his hips to meet every thrust, his senses too full of the boy to think or speak or do anything but keep moving as deep as he could go.

Will chanted his name along with the singsong chanting of the tribe, his hand pumping his own cock in time with Jack’s furious shafting, speeding up to keep the tempo of the pounding drums, which in turn seemed to beat a timeless rhythm of the island herself. The earth beneath them shook and stomped, a single beam of moonlight coming down from the hole at the apex of the tent to illuminate the teeth Will bared in a grimace of pleasure almost too intense to bear. Feeling the madness of the beat rushing towards climax, pulling them along with it, Jack bit down hard on the pale throat beneath him. Will’s scream went shocking through his skeleton even as the wailing outside reached its highest pitch and Jack came as well, spending himself to the sound of Will’s soft noises as he came down from his orgasm. Jack wasted a few moments on simply breathing, listening to the decrescendo of the activities on the beach. Funny that they didn’t sound erotic anymore. Instead they were almost soothing, a gentle wind stirring bells and rattles and low-pitched humming.

Beneath him, Will sighed and planted a kiss on the top of his head. “‘Night, Jack.”

Jack snugged against him, brushing at the sticky mess on his belly with a corner of his sleeve. “G’night, whelp.” And sleep took him as thoroughly as the racing passion of the island night.

 

 

Will proved nigh impossible to rouse the next morning. He didn’t move when Jack carefully detangled himself from the stew-pot of limbs except to roll over onto his stomach. Wincing at the pain in his skull, Jack patted his shoulder and let the lad sleep. He’d likely be sore when he woke, and they had a few hours of loading supplies and prepping the ship before setting sail. He returned when the _Pearl_ was ready to find Will still abed, sleeping too deeply even to snore.

“Wake up, love,” said Jack, crouching down beside the boy and shaking him. Will grumbled and Jack tugged on his arm. “Time t’ get going.”

“Tired,” Will moaned, waving him off. Jack leaned down to kiss him.

“I know, William, but you can sleep onboard. Come on, up wi’ you.”

Will made a series of unhappy faces as he let Jack haul him to his feet. “I hurt,” he complained. “I hurt all over and I feel very strange.”

“Well, I know what it was I did to you last night, but we can’t really say the same about the drink. Lean on me and we’ll get you tucked back into bed in no time, savvy?”

“No,” Will replied petulantly, hobbling alongside Jack and turning his face into Jack’s neck when the sun hit his eyes. It took further wheedling and coaxing to get him to board the ship, but finally Jack was dumping him on their bunk.

Will immediately turned over and fell asleep.

Jack grinned ruefully. That had been some powerful liquor, whatever it was. He’d wanted to barter for some, but the one man in the tribe who spoke a few words of English and Spanish said it wouldn’t keep. Perhaps that was best, for Will’s. He left the boy the rest of the day to sleep it off.

Night saw Jack creeping into the cabin to nuzzle up to a still slumbering Will. He made a half-hearted attempt at waking him, but not feeling up to anything interesting himself, Jack let him alone and nodded off at his side.

He slept through the next morning too, and the rest of the day.

By then Jack was more than a bit worried. He had Gibbs check a drowsy Will over, since the man was familiar with every malady connected to drink. Gibbs shrugged and told him there didn’t seem to be anything wrong with the boy. Questioning Will only got him with further requests for sleep and the reassertion that he felt strange.

“Strange how?” Jack asked, stroking Will’s brown curls out of his eyes, upset by the deep circles beneath them.

“Strange,” Will repeated, irritated.

“Where?”

Will waved his hands in a vague indication of his entire body and Jack sighed. He was of half a mind to sail back to the little island and demand to know what they’d done to him, but the next day Will was improved enough to get up with the morning watch. Since he shrugged off any concern, cleared the _Pearl’s_ food stores of fully twice his own weight, and had his captain writhing against a bulkhead by noon, Jack thought nothing further of it.

 

_Six Weeks Later..._

 

“God's teeth, boy, somethin’ wrong with you?”

Will stumbled into the galley and laid his head down on the table. “I have no idea. I’ve just thrown up for the second time today, fourth day this week.” He wrinkled his nose at the lingering taste in his mouth and snagged Anamaria’s tankard of water. She frowned, but took in his pale face and shaky hands and let it go.

Gibbs gave him a considering look. “You been drinkin' more’n you ought?”

Snorting at the idea that Gibbs would question anyone’s drinking habits, he replied, “No, I’ve hardly touched any drink." Jack was free with his stores of rum, but for some reason it had turned Will's stomach of late.

“Must be something else then,” said Anamaria, crossing her arms over her chest. “So let’s hear it.”

Will looked to the deck beams overhead as he thought. “Well, nothing seems to be wrong with my appetite – quite the opposite, actually, thought I can't manage to keep half of it down. I’ve been sleeping more than usual, but I'm tired even then.”

“But no coughing or sneezing?” Gibbs asked. "Or rash?" He glanced southward.

“No. A headache now and then,” said Will. “No fever that I can tell. Oh,” he added, suddenly remembering, “and the odd muscle ache.”

“Where?”

“Mostly my chest, a twinge in my back, and oddly enough, my feet sometimes.”

Anamaria glanced down at the hardened bun in her hand and cast dark eyes up at Gibbs, who pursed his lips. “Er, what’s Jack have to say about all this, young William? Has he noticed an’thing off?”

Will reddened, ducking his head. “Actually, we aren’t speaking at the moment. We had a row last night, and I can’t even remember what about. I suddenly just got the urge to shout at him and pick a fight out of nowhere.”

“Mood swings,” said Anamaria with a raised eyebrow.

“Now, no need to go jumpin’ to conclusions, here,” said Gibbs cautiously.

Will looked back and forth between them. “What? What’s wrong with me?” When they both looked away and refrained from answering, he slapped a hand down on the table in frustration. “Look, whatever it is, I can handle it. I may be green to a sailor's life but I’m no child!”

Anamaria made a sort of sputtering sound and he glared at her.

“Ah, Will,” said Gibbs, leaning forward, nervousness plain on his broad face. “I’m not sayin’ it’s fer certain, and Lord knows it sounds like crazy talk, but seems to be you been exhibiting all the signs of...” He trailed off, wincing, and Anamaria finished for him.

“Pregnancy,” she said flatly.


	2. Chapter 2

Jack was just exiting his cabin when Will came barreling through, slamming the door behind him.

Blinking, Jack knocked. “William? Everything all right?” He’d been in such a rotten temper lately that Jack really didn’t have the patience to deal with him, but hopefully he’d get credit for trying.

“Go away,” was the answer. Jack stuck his tongue out at the door. He’d asked time and time again what was troubling the boy but he’d received no answer, only a boot thrown at his head and an empty bed. He went to seek out certain members of his crew who might have been able to glean something more.

Gibbs and Anamaria were sitting in the galley discussing something quite serious, judging by the looks on their faces. They immediately shut up when Jack strolled in. Damnation, wasn’t anybody speaking to him on his own ship? 

But first things first. “Listen,” he said to the two of them, leaning over the table, “Will’s got himself in some kinda fret and I was wonderin’ if either of you fine gentlefolk might know the reason.”

“He’s got hisself in some kinda somethin’ all right,” muttered the woman, kicking her feet up under Jack’s nose.

Gibbs held out his hands to describe something in the air and Jack nodded encouragingly, but the squat man hesitated, thinking over what he meant to say. “It’s like this, Cap’n,” he finally began. “We suspect, unusual though it be, that the lad’s been voidin’ his breakfasts and actin’ out b’cause he’s in a...a delicate condition.” Pudgy hands described a vague arc, telling Jack about as much as his words had. His brows drew together in consternation and he looked to Anamaria.

“You knocked ‘im up,” she told him with a distasteful look.

Jack stood straight, his hands held motionless before him. “What did you say?” he asked very, very slowly.

“He’s as persnickety and ill as a breedin’ woman,” said Gibbs. He too gave Jack a reproving glare. “You oughter know better, Jack.”

Slumping down onto a free bench, Jack shook his head. “Excuse me,” he said in a tone wavering just below hysterical. “You expected me to be sensitive to the prospect that my male lover might conceive a child in my bed?”

“Poor feller,” said Gibbs, tipping back his flask. “How’s he gonna nurse the babe, eh? You ever think o’ that?”

“How’s he gonna birth it?” Anamaria demanded.

Jack pounded both fists on the table. “How’s the possibility of Will becoming pregnant even possible? He has no womb!”

Anamaria and Gibbs just tsked at him. “Shameful,” said Gibbs.

Sighing deeply, Jack pressed fingertips to his temples. “A bit of perspective here, please. Will, pretty and delicate of face though he may be, is a man. And I can personally assure you that he has man parts – perfectly serviceable and quite lovely ones. I happen to possess the same and have had no complaints so far, least of all from –”

“Off-topic, Jack,” Anamaria interrupted crisply.

“So no matter what manner of fornication we’ve been up to,” Jack continued, “it should be obvious enough that we simply do not have the cooperative facilities necessary for producing offspring.”

“Says the man who on’y recently regained his ship from a buncha undead fiends, after spendin’ a short bit o’ time as an undead fiend hisownself,” said Gibbs.

Jack’s mouth flopped impotently for a moment. “That – that is not the same thing!”

His crewman raised both hands in supplication. “‘M jus’ sayin’, world’s a strange place. We all seen a lotta strange things.”

“Even supposing for a second that Will is indeed somehow with child,” said Jack, attempting to be practical for once, “again I ask, how would it have happened?”

“That’s the question, innit?” Anamaria replied, cleaning beneath her fingernails with a pearl-handled dirk. “Think back o’er the last coupla months. Done anything strange with th’ boy?”

Drawing himself up indignantly, Jack said, “I do not share details of my sexual proclivities with just anyone.” They both leveled skeptical looks at him and he wilted. “All right, I’m a braggart. But honest, we’ve not had time to try out half the whore’s tricks I know, an’ anyway it’s not like that with me an’ Will.”

Anamaria’s lip curled upward as if she’d smelled something unpleasant. “‘Cause you two’re _in love_.”

“Mayhap that’s what did it,” Gibbs offered hopefully.

“Somehow I doubt it,” she said, leaning forward on the table, evidently warming to the prospect of solving the mystery of Will’s condition. “Where’ve we been recently? Somebody might’ve cursed one o’ you.”

“Nowhere interesting,” said Jack. “And I refuse to go anywhere near Bermuda after the last time.”

“Wouldn’t want to subject th’ Pearl to that,” said Gibbs with a shudder.

“Giant squid smelling of rotting lavender,” said Jack absently off of Anamaria’s confused look. He drummed fingers against his chin, nearly shooting one up his nose as he suddenly remembered. “That island where we stopped a night, what was that, a month, two months ago?”

“Round about,” said Gibbs. “Y’think...”

“Well, I don't know what else it could be,” said Jack, stroking his beard. “We did both have that sweet drink...and he was out like a light for two days after...”

“Still, that don’t prove much,” said Gibbs. “We’d ‘ave to go back an’ ask those folk if they’re runnin’ some infernal brood-male farm.”

“And we don’t know fer sure what’s goin’ on wi’ the boy,” Anamaria pointed out. “‘F he is pregnant, the babe’ll start to make itself known by the time we reach the island.”

“Right,” said Jack, glad he had such a clever crew because frankly he was having trouble standing up. Managing it at last, he tipped his hat to his co-conspirators, who nodded back at him. “We’ll make for that island. And I’d better be off to see to Will.”

 

“I don’t want anything to do with you!”

Jack pressed both hands to the door, calming his voice as much as he could. “Now William, if you’ll just be reasonable ‘bout this –”

“ _Reasonable_!” Will shouted. “After what you’ve done to me!”

“I din’t mean to,” Jack said, stroking the wood of the door Will had locked from the inside. “Let me in, sweetheart, an’ we can have a chat –” 

“I don’t want to chat!” Something heavy thudded against the door; a candlestick, Jack supposed, since he didn’t hear the shattering that would mark it as the mirror. “You’ve infected me with – with your evil demon seed!”

“Evil de – will you stop acting like an infant and...” Jack trailed off, wincing. Something else hit the door right next to his ear. “All right, bad choice of wording, I’ll admit.”

“Get out!”

“I’m not in,” Jack pointed out. He could imagine Will’s rage faltering for a beat, but he picked it up with renewed vigor.

“This is all your fault!”

Jack’s control over his temper began to fray. “It does take two, y’know!”

He cursed as the door banged open and into his forehead.

The younger man strode forward, towering over Jack as best he could with a few inches of superior height. He grabbed Jack by the front of his shirt. “I want it out of me!” he bellowed.

“Bit early for that, mate –”

“Don’t you dare be glib,” Will hissed, giving him a little shake. “Tell me what to do to get rid of this blasted thing!”

Jack to remind himself of the mental and physical duress Will was under before he snapped out of the boy’s grasp and started something they were both going to regret. “We don’t know enough,” he said shortly. “I know things that can be done early – herbs, possets a woman can take to make her lose a babe – but there’s no telling what’s goin’ on in your body right now.”

Will released him, backing away and shaking his head. “No, there has to be something, anything...”

“What, throw yourself from the sails?” Jack snapped. When Will looked thoughtful at that, he added harshly, “Sure, you’d likely lose it, and break your fool neck in the process or bleed to death ‘cause your insides’ve been all rearranged.”

Looking like he was going to be sick, Will sank down to the deck and put his head between his knees. “God, what’s happening to me,” he moaned into his hands, ignoring Jack as he knelt beside him.

“Look,” said Jack, gentling his tone, “I think it might have somethin’ to do with that night we spent on the unmarked island. We’ll head back that way and see what’s what.”

“And then?” Will whispered, finally looking at him.

“Then...then I don’t know,” he replied, meeting Will’s red-rimmed eyes squarely.

Will groaned in frustration, thumping his head back against the door. “Why’d this have to happen to me?”

“I don’t always take top, it could’ve easily been me,” said Jack in an attempt at comfort. “‘Course, you might not have the evil demon seed necessary to put me in the same position...”

Despite himself, Will chuckled. He looked sheepishly down at his lap. “I’m sorry. I know you’re not really to blame for this. It’s just – I keep having these feelings, and I don’t know what to do with them.”

“Prob’ly ones you were never meant to have, bein’ a male and all,” said Jack. He reached for Will’s hand, thinking the danger was past, but Will flinched away from him.

“I’m not angry,” Will explained, his eyes shifting around, “but I don’t think I’m quite comfortable...”

Jack stood quickly and took a step back. “No problem a’tall. I’ll sleep elsewhere as long as you like.” He said it thinking Will would quickly reassure him that it wouldn’t be necessary, but his heart sank when the boy nodded slowly, wrapping his arms around himself.

“Thank you,” he said with a strained smile.

 

Will sat on the floor of the cabin, watching Jack walk away, before he got up and stepped back inside. He took the elaborate gilt mirror out of Jack’s sea-trunk. How he’d teased the pirate captain when he’d discovered this smal; luxury, the last thing one would expect to find amongst a crew of hardened sailors. But he loved Jack’s vanity, the pride he took in his cultivated appearance, as much as the appearance itself – as much as the man himself...

The man he’d hurt dearly just a few minutes before. Jack hid it well, but Will knew him better than either of them would like to admit at the moment. He wasn't sure why he felt he couldn’t turn to Jack; perhaps it would be too much like acceptance, like capitulation to this situation he was not meant to ever be prepared for. And perhaps he was just bitter. 

Propping the mirror against the head of the bed, he pulled his shirt over his head and studied himself critically. Nothing about his body looked out of the ordinary, but he was certain that would change.

No way to know for sure yet, Gibbs had said. Will, although not normally governed by instinct the way Jack was, knew beyond a shadow of a doubt that there was something very strange happening. It wasn’t instinct, though, not really; it was something he could feel. Nothing like movement or pain, but some fundamental wrongness inside that he hadn’t been able to name.

He could name it now, of course, but he refused. Thinking of it as a child was absurd, because he was a man and Jack was a man and the very idea of the two of them creating life together was ridiculous. It didn’t work that way; it was not meant to work that way. However this had happened, unnatural forces were at play and Will wanted nothing to do with them, nor with the...the thing growing within him. A parasite – yes, that was far more accurate, a parasite sapping his strength and his sanity.

Not a child. Not a tiny baby with Jack’s black hair, his dancing eyes – 

Will shook himself and carefully slipped the mirror back into the trunk. He might be feeling sentimental as a schoolgirl, but he didn’t have to give himself over to those emotions. Keeping Jack out of his bed would be the best effort in that direction. In a few weeks they’d be at the godforsaken island, where whatever had been done to him would be undone and he could return to as normal a life as the partner to Captain Jack Sparrow could expect.

His newfound resolve buoyed his spirits for a few minutes before his gut lurched and he had to rush out of the cabin to empty his stomach once again.


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> There is some Spanish in this chapter, but it should be easy to understand in context.

"Bananas,” said the pirate, poking the stocking-capped grocer in the chest with his gun.

“Please, I have nothing,” the fearful little man protested, shrinking from the pirate's fierce dark eyes.

“I don’t want your money, mate, I’ve come for your bananas!” Flicking a twisted black lock out of his face, the pirate brandished his pistol in the direction of the stores. “All of ‘em, now, an’ make it quick.”

Confused, the grocer peered at him. “Just bananas? Really?”

The pirate snarled through his gold teeth and reached out to grip the grocer by the lacy collar of his nightshirt. “Listen closely,” he growled, leaning down to glare into his face. “I haven’t slept a wink in three days because I’ve got a pregnant mate on me ship who’s sufferin’ from insomnia and after me night and day to stop at the first port we come to so’s I can slip in and steal a king’s ransom of fucking bananas. Any bananas – green ones, yellow ones, small ones, big ones - _platano, bananier, banaan, ariena._ Give me all you’ve got or I’ll have your bollocks for my breakfast. Is that perfectly clear, my good man?”

“Right,” said the grocer, his knees quivering. “Bananas it is.”

As he swept his entire stock of bananas into burlap sacks, he kept one eye on the pirate, who massaged his temple with the muzzle of the gun

“There you go,” said the grocer. As the pirate swung the load over his shoulder, the grocer couldn’t help but chuckle. “Guess not even your lot’s women are an exception to the species. Demanding when they’re expecting, eh?”

The pirate shook his head with a put-upon expression. “You've no idea.” He flipped a coin on his way out.

 

Will was pacing the length of the cabin when Jack returned, panting under the weight of his delivery. “Woke up again?”

“Well, it’s not as if I don’t have enough on my mind to keep me from sleeping,” Will snapped. He frowned at the sacks Jack dumped in the middle of the floor. “What’s all this? And where’ve you been, anyway? I went looking for you.”

“Got your bananas, love,” said Jack proudly, tearing open one package and holding up a ripe speciman. “Ev’ry last one in Port Maria.”

Will inspected the fruit with a critical eye. “Bananas? When did I say I wanted bananas?”

Jack blinked. The sack fell from his hands to thud dully on the deck. “Each hour on the hour for the past two days.”

“Oh,” said Will, throwing the banana over his shoulder. “That’s thoughtful of you, I guess.” He flopped back on the bunk, flicking at a loose thread on his sleeve.

Jack closed his eyes and counted to ten. “I love you very, very much,” he told Will, who cocked his head.

“Yes, and?”

“Just remindin’ meself,” Jack muttered, plucking a banana out of the spilled sack with a forlorn sigh.

“Well, it’s not going to get you back into my bed,” said Will, conveniently forgetting that he was in fact holed up in the captain's great cabin while the captain bunked on the gundeck. 

Suddenly his eyes brightened. “Hey, d’you know what I’d really fancy right now? Pineapples!”

Jack peeled his banana and prayed for swift winds to carry them eastward.

When they sighted the island at last, it was all Jack could do not to perform a spontaneous dance of joy right out on deck. Finally, finally he would be able to rid himself of the screeching, biting, demanding hellion that had taken up residence in his cabin and get his sweet, sensible Will back. And, once they were assured this was not going to happen again, his currently uninspiring sex life would take a turn for the better.

He felt petty to be complaining about Will, even in his own head, but he couldn’t quite help himself. The ill treatment might have been easier to bear if Will was cross with everyone else. But though nothing Jack said or did was ever right, Will was perfectly civil to the crew. He didn’t even take his worries out on Gibbs or Anamaria, who were the only others to know about the whole mess. The rest of the crew had merely picked up the idea that something had come between captain and first mate. They were loyal to Jack in matters of business, but having made something of a pet of the friendly, eager boy in his earliest days on board, they took his side automatically and gave their captain the evil eye when his back was turned.

It wasn’t as though he didn’t sympathize with what Will was going through. The sickness and sleeping troubles and violent shifts in mood were making the poor lad miserable, even if he still refused to really acknowledge what was causing it all. Jack hated watching it, yet Will would take no comfort from him, not a single touch no matter how innocent.

Doubting that Will was up yet, Jack barged into the cabin without a word of warning. The boy was standing by the bed without a stitch on. Jack had just enough time for a concentrated ogle and a lascivious grin before Will squeaked and covered himself with the blanket.

“Can you not knock, Sparrow?”

Jack rolled his eyes away from the flushed skin before him. “‘S not like I’ve never seen you naked, love.”

“This is different,” Will insisted .

“Anyway, I came t’ fetch you because we’re here.”

“I need to dress.” When Jack didn’t move, Will huffed and twirled a finger in the air.

Sighing, Jack turned around. Silly time to have an attack of modesty, if you asked him – not that Will would, of course. He hadn’t caught a terribly accurate glance, but there didn’t appear to be a great change in form at this point. A little softening around the middle, maybe, and Jack thought his nipples looked a bit swollen. He tried to picture Will with actual working breasts. Giselle’s were the nicest pair he’d seen in recent years, but that seemed a bit like overkill for Will’s lanky frame. Perhaps Elizabeth’s modest curves, which he’d had the privilege of seeing through soaked linen shift if not exactly unclothed. Small but perfectly formed – yes, they’d do quite –

“Done,” Will announced. Jack filed the image away for further perusal – Christ but he hated sleeping alone – and turned back around.

He stepped closer, puzzled by the quality of Will’s face as the boy tied his hair back. “You look diff’rent this morning.”

Will shrugged, avoiding his gaze and going a little pink.

“Wait,” said Jack, reaching out to frame his face with both hands. “Let’s have a look at you.”

Will squirmed under his hold. “What?”

“Nothing, really,” Jack replied slowly, releasing him. A glow, that was what they called it. Will might’ve been frowning, but he still seemed to be lit from the inside. Mentioning it, though, was likely to get Jack yelled at again, so he held his tongue.

For a moment Will’s eyes became softer and he looked as though he wanted to speak. Then the shouts of greeting between the crew and the tribe broke the cabin’s silence before either man got the opportunity.

 

“Friends!”

The beaming little man called Manolo came down the beach with his arms raised in welcome. Will hung back as Jack clasped hands with him. The upcoming conversation was bound to be the most humiliating thing he’d yet experienced and he felt quite comfortable letting Jack handle it. At least, he thought with some small gratitude, he hadn’t been sick this morning.

Yet.

He realized that Jack was motioning to him and he followed as Manolo led them to a large tent. Seeing the chief dozing on a braided mat at the far end, Jack and Will bowed politely. The elderly ruler swatted a fly in front of his nose and resumed his snoring.

“Porque are you come?” Manollo asked as they settled down.

Will had forgotten about the perplexing way he wove English and Spanish. Jack understood him perfectly, but even trying to pay attention gave Will a headache. He crossed his arms over his stomach and thought calming thoughts at it. As long as it didn’t rebel or do that other thing it had done earlier, which made him far more nervous than the vomiting, they would get along fine.

“Well,” Jack was saying with his usual careless hand-waving, “after our last little trip, the boy here suddenly found himself pregnant.”

Trying to collapse his neck so that his burning face was protected between his shoulder blades, Will shot Jack a glare. He’d just come right out with it, no thought to tact or Will’s own feelings. He looked to Manolo, but the tribesman was smiling blankly at the captain.

“Preg-nant?” he said with a shake of his head. “Qué es word, Capitan Sparrow?”

“Pregnant, pregnant,” said Jack, glancing over to Will, who scooted further away in the fear that he’d be used as a tool of language instruction. On his own, Jack said, “Ah, con bebé, yes?” He curled his arms in front of his chest, vigorously rocking an invisible bundle. “Infante, niño, tiny hairless version of people.”

“Oh!” said Manolo, his mouth going rounder than Will thought was strictly necessary. He missed whatever facial expression followed because he had found a suitable spot on the dirt floor to stare at. “He is embarazado.”

“That’s the word!” said Jack with enthusiasm, snapping his fingers. 

Will sneaked a furtive glance up from the floor to see Manolo staring curiously at him and quickly hid his face in Jack’s shoulder.

“Anyway, we were wonderin’ if something here, maybe whatever fantastical things we had to drink that night, might be responsible.”

Manollo stroked his chin as he thought. “If you will wait, I ask el mago.”

“What’s a mago?” Will whispered as the little man got up and left the tent.

“Shaman,” said Jack. “Remember the white-haired chap with the blind left eye?”

Despite the overpowering warmth in the tent, Will shifted closer to Jack, who brought an arm around him with a pleased smile. “Why are they talking to the shaman?” he asked, trying not to lean into the touch he missed more than he’d realized.

“Dunno,” Jack replied. 

Through the open flap, they could see Manollo across the square gesticulating emphatically at the wizened shaman of the tribe. Together they turned to point in Will’s direction and he made a face.

“There are no words for how much I despise you right now,” he mumbled against Jack’s neck, resisting the urge to lick away the salt gathered on his skin. Jack said nothing, but his posture stiffened and Will thought in alarm that he’d gone too far that time.

Before he had the chance to apologize, the two men were ducking into the tent and Will was shrugging Jack’s arm off. Introductions were made, though Will forgot the shaman’s name as soon as it was said. Not being able to pronounce it anyway, he wasn’t overly concerned.

The shaman began to speak in his native language, his voice quavery with age though there was a certain twinkle in his dark eyes. He gestured back and forth between Will and Jack, who looked to Manolo for a translation when he was finished.

“He says not drink. El noche was for ritual with chief and wife, para hacer el bebé. Very powerful magia antigua, very difícil for contol.”

Will blinked at Jack, having found the explanation hard to follow. “So let me get this straight,” said Jack to Manolo, with a respectful nod for the shaman. “You lot were doin’ some complicate magics to get the chief’s wife with child, and it somehow got transferred to us? ¿Fue transferido a nosotros?”

Grinning widely at being understood, Manolo nodded. The chief nodded too, a deal more gravely.

“Por supuesto, el tiempo was very important,” Manolo continued. “You and Señor Turner must be, how you say, hacer la bestia con dos...dos...”

“Backs,” Jack supplied.

“I am thinking los dos penes, but sí.” 

“Oh God,” Will muttered, reddening, able to pick up at least that much.

“Sometime happens, con dos hombres in our village,” said Manolo.

“On purpose?” Will asked, horrified. He’d noticed last time that the islanders had a far more practical approach to sexual practices than any Europeans he’d met, but it boggled his mind that someone of his own gender would actually ask for this to happen. 

“Sí. Is great honor.”

“Well,” said Jack, propping his elbows on his knees and glancing sideways at Will, “that explains it, then.”

A young girl came to the entrance of the tent and Manolo stood up to take Will’s arm. “You go now, a la tienda of women.”

“What?” Will attempted to dig in his heels, but the man who came only to his chest had a surprising strength in his wiry arms.

“You go,” Manolo repeated. “Learn, eat, con las mujeres. Sanna my wife, grande con niño, she will speak to you.”

Will threw a panicked look at Jack, but the captain merely grinned at him. “G’wan, scoot,” he said, flicking his fingers out. “Go complain to some kindred spirits, as it were.”

“Remember that I hate you,” he called over his shoulder as the little girl led him away.

The chief barked something after him and Manollo translated: "He says for congratulations!"

 

Upon Will’s entrance into the women’s tent, there was an immediate barrage of protest. A group of females rushed him, looking like nothing so much as hens pecking an intruder out of their coop. He shrank back, but the little girl gripping him by the hand spoke harshly to the stampede. Whatever she said in their lilting, musical language caused his welcoming party to pause, shooting each other doubtful looks before peering at him intensely.

“Er, hello,” said Will as they sidled closer, reaching out to run curious hands over his clothing. A few of the boldest curved fingers over his stomach in too knowing of a way and he jumped. “I’m – I’m looking for Sanna?”

A tiny bright-eyed woman pushed her way to the front, shooing others out of the way. She had red beads in her hair and she was, as Manolo had said, hugely pregnant. In fact, Will noticed, many of the women in the tent were heavy with child.

Will’s guide spoke to the woman with respect, touching fingertips to her brow. Sanna nodded and the girl pulled back the flap, turning to flash him a white-toothed grin that he couldn’t help but return, before she ran out into the sunlight.

“Hola, Will Turner,” said Sanna. Her face was marked by a disfiguring scar stretching across her right cheekbone up to her hairline. It looked like the memory of a nasty burn. One heavy breast hung outside of a sarong that wrapped across her chest and went around to cover her belly, a style of dress favored by most of the women in the tent.

It suddenly occurred to him that she had spoken to him and he had understood. “You speak English? Spanish? I thought Manolo was the only one here who could.”

“Manolo teach me,” said Sanna with a smile that was more sedate than her husband’s but no less charming. “Come, siéntese,” she said, pulling Will toward some mats near the center of the tent. He sat cross-legged and his onlookers arranged themselves around him, the bulkier ones taking great care in lowering their bodies to the ground. They allowed Sanna to take the seat on his right; he offered her the support of his arm as she sat. A very pretty young woman sat to his left, gazing out from beneath a finely-woven veil.

“She is chief wife,” said Sanna. “She has child too.” The girl dimpled beneath her veil, reaching out to take his hand. She pressed their interlaced fingers first to her own abdomen, then to his. 

“Oh!” he said, understanding. “You were the one – the night we came here...”

“The concepto mágico, yes,” Sanna replied. The chief’s newest and youngest wife squeezed his hand strongly before releasing him. “Our chief, he goes older y necesita ayuda con...” She cupped one hand and jabbed at it with a forefinger. Will turned red and the rest of the women tittered at his embarrassment.

A woman with reddish-tinged black hair called out something and giggles turned into honest laughter.

Sanna said something that sounded vaguely like a rebuke, but she was chuckling as well. “She says she seen your man and he have no need para ayuda.”

Will squirmed, curling his toes in his boots and half-wishing nausea would give him an excuse to get away from this friendly nosiness.

The chief’s wife reached out to finger a curl that had fallen loose from his short queue. She murmured softly and Sanna translated once again.

“Soft, comó un infante. She asks will the baby have hair like this.”

The touch was gentle and he rather liked the doe-eyed young woman. “Tell her that I – I haven’t thought about it much.” Which was not exactly a lie – he hadn’t thought much about what was inside of him because he wanted to keep from going mad over it, but the moment she said it an image of a baby with the full weight of Jack’s twisted locks popped into his head. A terrible burden for any child to bear, but Jack’s hair was perfectly nice at the roots, thick and soft and straight. It must’ve looked relatively ordinary when it had first sprouted on his head.

He was distracted from his thoughts when the chief’s wife patted him on the cheek and cooed something.

“She call you ‘pretty boy from the sea,” Sanna informed him.

“She could call me Will instead,” he said with a raised eyebrow.

Sanna shook her head with a wry smile. “No; I think this name instead.”

Sure enough, as a few of the women tired of the novelty pregnant male and wandered off to other parts, they called out what sounded like the same string of words.

Jack, he told himself, was never, ever going to know about that moniker or he’d never hear the end of it.

Clasping both his hands in her own, Sanna bent close in and asked, “Bien, Will Turner? You feel most right?”

The first thing that popped into Will’s mind was a list of grievances he ran through whenever Jack dared to ask a similar question, but a glance around the tent and its collection of expectant women froze his tongue. Though many of them were young and firm-bodied, just as many looked as though they were mothers already, and several times over. They would cluck their tongues and offer sympathy, but he feared they’d secretly joke amongst themselves over the pasty-skinned man sniveling about what they had gone through many times without complaint. 

“All right, I suppose,” he finally said, smiling uncertainly. Sanna’s lips pursed and she rubbed a hand over her stomach.

“The four,” she explained, forming the word carefully. “He moves todo el tiempo. Manolo says será un gran corredor – run very fast. Feel?” She pressed Will’s palm flat against the round dome of her belly. For a moment he felt nothing except discomfort at this intimate contact, and then the flesh beneath his hand stirred in a not-quite ripple. Will forgot himself entirely and bent closer, placing both hands on Sanna, fascinated by a second kick and then a third. It was nothing like what he’d felt this morning in the half-lit hours before dawn. That had been the faintest hint of movement, as if the child had quickened long enough to let him know it was really there and then subsided back into obscurity. In the instant it happened he’d thought to wake Jack, swinging in a hammock beside the bunk and muttering in his sleep, but though he stayed awake till the sun rose, it did not come again.

He looked up into the laugh-lined eyes of the woman and a hundred questions suddenly spilled into his mind. Before he could choose one, a cry broke out somewhere behind them.

Sanna glanced over his should. “Myaran, just up from birth the last noon. Her girl-child cries. Come.” He stood, helping her to her feet, and followed her to a sectioned-off part of the tent he had not noticed before. A woman lay on a bed of skins, an infant swaddled in a clean cloth at her breast. His cries became stilted and finally stopped as she shushed him. Sanna knely beside Myaran and took the baby, speaking quietly and glancing at Will. The other woman nodded and smiled at him. At Sanna’s urging, he sat next to her. When she leaned towards him, holding out the now-silent baby, he balked.

“Oh, I’m not – I’ve never been around small children –”

With a snort of laughter, Sanna ignored his protests and he had no choice but to take the bundle lest he make her drop it. “Tú necesita – what is word?– custom to it.”

“But I don’t intend to –” He broke off, startled, as the baby’s mouth opened. “What’s it doing? Why is it doing that?”

Sanna held her hand to her own mouth in a mimicry of a yawn. “To sleep, after she eats.”

A tiny sound like a sigh escaped from the perfectly round circle of the baby’s mouth as her eyes screwed up. It was a remarkably sizable yawn for such a tiny creature, Will thought. Once her face relaxed, she gazed up at Will with large brown eyes, studying him suspiciously. He held his breath as she appeared to be making up her mind about whether she wanted to cry or not, fully expecting to provoke wailing the likes of which would bring the tent down around their ears. Instead the baby blinked, and blinked again more slowly, until she succumbed to a full belly and went to sleep in his arms. Even then he didn’t dare take his eyes from her face; he watched the faint rise and fall of her chest as he let himself breathe again.

Without thinking about it, he rearranged his grip to bring a hand up and brush back the few errant curls on her head. He understood the women’s interest in his own hair for the first time; he’d never felt anything so fine. And the earth-brown baby skin, when he stroked his fingertips down her rounded cheek, was softer than he could have imagined. The baby’s lips moved and he froze, fearing he’d awakened her, but she slumbered on.

Sanna watched him and her face was passive but for the warmth in her eyes. Will did not see it, was unaware of anything beyond the child in his arms. Both of them became lost to dreams.


	4. Chapter 4

Jack spent the afternoon accepting toasts from various and sundry tribe elders. A family unit comprised of two men and two children, one aged five and the other barely a year, was brought to see him. They were a darling sight, but he imagined Will would’ve run screaming in the other direction.

As the sun began to sink beneath the horizon, Jack grew restless and lonely. The members of the crew who’d come aboard were drinking or sporting with single maidens and lads of the tribe and Will had not yet emerged from the large tent at the westernmost corner of the square. After politely refusing another congratulatory round (of his own stock this time; never again would he taste a drink that came out of a coconut), Jack wandered over to the general area of the women’s abode. Two teenaged girls sat outside it, fanning themselves and glaring when they spotted him. He gave the tent a wide berth, finally spotting Will some ways down the beach. The boy was sitting with his knees drawn up in front of him, gazing out to sea.

“‘Ey,” he said softly, nudging his backside with bare toes.

Will shaded his eyes with his palm and smiled up at him. “Hello.”

“Mind if I sit?” Will shook his head and Jack lowered himself down, careful not to touch him. He peered more closely at Will’s face. What he’d seen this morning was even more pronounced in open air – an almost painterly softness, all angles and creases smoothed out. He hadn’t looked like that in weeks. Will lifted his head to the setting sun, closing his eyes to feel it on his lids, and Jack swallowed hard. 

“You’re a sight, you know that?” he said thickly, not caring if Will jumped down his throat. But the boy just opened his eyes and smiled again. Much as he longed for peace between them, Jack was suspicious now. “What’ve they done t’ you that’s made you pleasant again?”

“Nothing,” said Will, stretching his legs out in front of him. “Just talk and advice.”

He’d nearly forgotten the purpose for their visit while he was tracing the sun-burnished threads in Will’s hair, but he remembered now. “Found out how to rid yourself of the...the problem, then?”

Will nodded, a few stray curls falling into his eyes as he traced an oval in the sand. “It’s like you said – crushed herbs in some liquor. It’s a purgative and I’d be violently ill for a few days, but it would work the same as it does for a woman.”

“And did you get ahold of some?”

Will drew eyes and a nose in his oval. “Not yet.” Jack had to lean closer to hear him, his voice was so faint. “I – last night I felt it. Sanna told me it’s too early, but I know I did.” His hand went to his middle as if by reflex and Jack’s eyes followed it, watching how he pressed lightly down. Not once had he seen him touch himself like that, with an obvious awareness of what lingered within.

“I’ve been able to deny it,” Will continued, rubbing his thumb in little circles, “even as I was complaining to you about every single annoyance and – and about everything under the sun, really. But I felt it, Jack, real as you sitting here right now. A part of me but separate.” 

“You want to have it,” said Jack, careful to keep any inflection out of his voice. This was Will’s decision; no matter what role Jack had played in the making, it was Will carrying it and would have to be Will bringing it into the world. Besides which, he wasn’t sure where to begin untangling how he felt about all this.

Will nodded once, casting a sidelong look at Jack, who still purposely revealed nothing. “I – I do, I think,” he said uncertainly. “It’s mine, and I couldn’t – I don’t believe I...” Words gathered in knots on his tongue and he paused, filling his palm with sand before letting it fall through his fingers. “It’s the only chance for children I’d have, anyway.”

“If you stayed with me, y’mean,” said Jack, voicing a great fear in a small comment.

Looking at him with earnest brown eyes, Will said quietly, “That’s not an if, Jack.”

“Well,” said Jack, clearing his throat to hide the sudden jolt of warmth through his veins. “Well,” he said again, more softly, with a smile curving his mouth into the shape Will liked best.

Will’s face was still anxious. “You haven’t offered an opinion yet.”

“And I don’t intend to,” Jack replied matter-of-factly. “This is your call, mate.”

“And you think your say doesn’t matter to me?”

“It should only matter insofar as I love you more’n my own life, and I’ll say aye to whatever it is you want.”

With a long, slow inhalation and one more glance out to sea, Will bit his bottom lip and said, “What I want is to have this child, and to keep it, and for us to raise it together.” His resolve wobbled and he glanced at Jack worriedly. “If you’ll want us around, that is.”

“Stupid, stupid whelp,” Jack whispered, clasping him in arms that trembled only slightly. “That’s all I could ever want.”

Will burrowed between his neck and shoulder with a grateful sigh, starting and then relaxing as Jack’s hands slid under his shirt to caress a belly that was only faintly rounded and yet entirely different from the last time he’d touched it. Jack was about equal in his tastes for hard and soft, which usually came down to man or woman; it really depended on the person to make him favor one shape over another. With this particular person, he found it impossible to choose which version of stomach he preferred, and he decided that he didn’t care. 

Will settled closer as Jack stroked him and kissed where his dark hair curled around his ear.

“‘S just that I don’t know if I’m brave enough for this, lad,” he said, drawing in a breath in tandem with Will.

“You needn’t worry,” said Will in a contented sort of voice. “Everything will be all right.”

“You say that like you know it’s true.”

A shrug lifted the shoulders under his arm. “I feel it.”

Jack chuckled and gave the inside of his elbow a pinch. “My dear William, you’re about as intuitive as the nearest outcropping of rock.”

“This is different,” said Will in that pragmatic way of his, that my-world-works-this-way-and-that-is-that assurance which had irritated Jack at their first meeting. He’d never before found himself hoping so hard that Will’s world didn’t do them both a cruel turn.

“Ah, I see,” he said gravely, trying to keep his thoughts from their sobering downturn. “A mother’s intuition, I presume?”

Will leaned away to give him a solid whap in the arm, grinning when Jack made a contrite face and pulled him near again. “If you think I’m going to let this child call me Mother...”

“Well, what are we going to be then?” asked Jack, circling the dip of his navel with a fingertip. “Papa One and Papa Two?”

Will frowned thoughtfully. “I suppose we’ll have to figure something out. But we’ve got about six months to get through first, so I don’t mean to fret over it just get.”

“Smart man,” said Jack, nuzzling his collarbone.

“I hope it gets passed on, because God knows you’re deficient.”

“And so witty, too!” Will got to his feet quicker than Jack felt he should be able to, dodging a lazy swipe.

“And faster,” Will called out, skipping backwards down the beach, “embarazado or not.”

Grumbling with good-natured irritation, Jack set off after him. 

 

They dined with the tribe and drank late into the darkness, Jack with his rum and Will with an unfermented fruit juice brought by the little girl who’d taken such a shine to him. This time Will merely watched the dancers instead of joining in. He leaned back in Jack’s embrace, gazing at the whirling couples and the unattached youths who would probably be unattached no longer this time next year. He marveled at the way each man and woman fit as a part of the whole, how the community throbbed and pulsed as a living organism through crisis and sorrow. He’d never been able to find his place in Port Royal, not even when he’d gotten the things a man of his station was meant to have, but he’d found it aboard Jack’s ship. The Pearl’s crew was much the same as these people, as isolated at sea as they were on their island. Of course, if pirates failed to harmonize they were far more likely to kill each other off, but the night was too pleasant for such thoughts.

Jack hummed against Will’s ear, tapping the rhythm of the drums on his thighs, hopelessly behind the beat. Will shifted, turning his head to distract him with a slow, deep kiss.

“Mmm,” Jack murmured against his lips when they paused for breath. His eyes glittered in the fire’s glow. “Have I mentioned how glad I am that you’re bein’ nice to me again?”

“Once or twice,” Will conceded. “We’ll see how long it lasts.”

“Always gotta be a challenge, don’t you,” said Jack fondly, tweaking his nose.

Sleepy with the warmth and the fresh roasted pork in his stomach, Will propped his chin on Jack’s shoulder to keep his head from nodding. The pirate captain nudged him off, standing to offer him a hand up. “C’mon, let’s head off t’ bed before you fall asleep and roll into the fire.”

“I don’t roll in my sleep,” Will complained as he stumbled after Jack in the direction of their small tent. “I sleep like a log.”

“Not lately, you don’t,” Jack replied, drawing the flap aside to let him enter. Will heaved a great sigh at the welcoming sight of the skins serving as bedroll. He dropped down and stretched out as Jack shucked his jacket and came to lie beside him. The pirate captain was almost skittish, scooting close but not touching, and Will’s good mood was tempered by guilt. He'd been a right bastard to Jack for too long.

“Come here, my love,” he whispered, reaching out to find Jack’s face by touch and instinct in the dark, drawing him near.

Jack shuddered against him. “Thank all the gods in the heavens,” he said with feeling, wrapping his arms around Will like he was never going to let go. He fell still after a perfunctory kiss, however, and Will frowned to himself. He was unaccustomed to being the one doing the seducing; it had been the other way around, the first time, and more or less equal efforts after that. Still, as long as Jack thought he didn’t want to be touched, there were going to be no moves made unless Will made them himself.

He turned in Jack’s grasp, groping for the small satchel he’d been given earlier. Jack dropped kisses on his shoulder as he came back with a little clay jar.

“It’s a salve Sanna gave me,” he explained, holding it out to Jack. “I’m supposed to rub it on my skin to prevent marks as I get bigger. Technically I don't need to start using it yet, but...” He curved his body suggestively against Jack, tugging on one chin-braid with his teeth. “I thought I’d test it out. Want to help?”

He could feel Jack smile against the skin of his neck. “P'raps just to make sure it’s not goin’ to cause rash or an’thing.” Will chuckled, rolling himself onto Jack and groaning at the heat and the friction he’d denied them both for weeks now.

A press upwards against him let him know just how much Jack had felt the lack as well, but then he unexpectedly stopped. “Will, darlin’, you sure this is allowed?”

“I'd like to see anyone tell me it's not,” said Will, fumbling at the buttons on his shirt with fingers that were too eager to be anything but clumsy. Jack reached up to help him. “Trust me, it came up more than once in that tent today,” he assured Jack, voice muffled by fabric as he pulled the shirt over his head. “As long as it's not uncomfortable, we're fine.” He sat atop Jack’s hips and ground down, grinning at the way Jack threw his head back.

“Good on that,” said Jack a bit breathlessly. “I could stand to hear a bit more about that conversation."

Will was glad that his blush was invisible in the darkness. “They gave me some...advice. Tips, even.”

“Without speakin’ it? I can’t imagine Sanna would’ve learned the appropriate words in either language.”

“There may have been some pictorial representations,” said Will with a wince. “And, er, dramatic re-enactments.”

Jack burst out laughing. “Oh, aye?”

“They managed to get across the idea of everything we’ve ever done, plus a few things I’m not sure are physically possible,” Will replied before losing all his breath in a low gasp as Jack brushed fingertips against nipples that had become entirely too sensitive. He slumped against the older man, hearing his pulse begin to race.

“Be sure to keep it in mind for after,” Jack murmured hotly. Then he fell silent under Will’s mouth, and remained mostly silent for a time.

 

“I missed you,” Will remarked later, arranging Jack’s hair baubles so that they wouldn’t poke him as Jack pillowed his head on Will’s belly. “I missed feeling like that.” 

“Nobody’s fault but your own,” Jack said, squeezing a sweaty hand and pressing his lips to the flesh beneath his cheek.

“I already apologized,” Will protested. “Don’t even think about setting off on a mission of retribution, because I will be forced to teach you a thing or two about paying for –” He trailed off when moonlight flooded their tent.

His small guide stalked in and tutted at them. Bending over the astonished pair, she forced a yell out of Jack as she yanked on his hair, pulling him away. She took Will by the shoulder and the hip, completely ignoring his nudity, and more gently directed him to lie on his side. Business conducted, she stood, nodded once, and left as soundlessly as she’d entered.

Jack goggled after her. “What possessed the sprite?”

Will sighed, adjusting himself in his new position. “I’m supposed to sleep on my side instead of my back, later on – it’s better for the baby and my organs.”

Snaking up to wrap arms around him from behind, Jack said, “Think she was listenin’ outside to hear when we were done? Y’can’t fault timing like that.”

“I don’t want to think about it,” said Will with a tired sigh.

“Oh c’mon, we could give the children an education! Let’s have another go at it – I know you can be louder...”

“Go to sleep, Jack.”

“If I must. Good night, little one,” he added, anchoring a hand over Will’s stomach. Will covered it with his own fingers and smiled as he drifted off.


	5. Chapter 5

They didn’t discover their stowaway until strong winds from the north were bearing the Pearl away from the island at a brisk clip.

In all fairness, they never discovered her at all; she chose to make her presence known. Will hadn’t eaten all day and Jack was trying to tempt him with any manner of treats from the ship’s stores when the attentive little girl marched into the cabin, pulled a piece of salt beef from Jack’s hands, and stuffed it into Will’s mouth. He left his jaw hanging in surprise but dutifully chewed when she forced his mouth shut, and swallowed when she refused to turn him loose.

Jack sank down onto the bunk, shaking his head at the girl. “No. No, no, _no_ – we’re taking you right back, young miss.”

The girl planted her hands on her hips and glared, just about eye-level with them because they were sitting. “I...go,” she said laboriously, her brow beetling as she fought down the unfamiliar words. “Will Turner baby,” she clarified, pointing to Will or more precisely to his mid-section. “Capitán Sparrow.” Her gesture to Jack was something more complicated involving both hands, and Jack suspected it meant something significant to her people even if he couldn’t figure it out.

“Did Sanna teach you to say all that?” Will enthused. The girl, reacting to his tone, dimpled proudly. “Jack, isn’t that remarkable?”

“I don’t care if the lass can recite dirty French poetry or bloody Shakespeare,” Jack replied. “We are sailing to that island and dropping her skinny arse back into her dam’s lap.”

Will opened his mouth with a cross look before pausing, seeming to think over his words. “Crude as it is, you have a point.”

“Well a’course I do –” said Jack, but Will was paying him no mind.

“What about your mother and father?” he said to the girl, puffing air out of his mouth when she shook her head. “Ah, mama, papa? Like me –”

“Will Turner!” said the girl eagerly, touching his hand.

Will grinned and tapped his chest. “Yes, that’s right. Like me, Will Turner, to the baby.” He lowered his hand to his waist to illustrate. “Parents?”

Understanding flashed in the girl’s eyes and she said a couple of words in her language, lifting her hands above her head to indicate greater height.

“Parents,” said Will with a nod. “What will they say when they find you gone?”

The girl shook her head sadly. “No,” she said.

“They won’t be upset?”

“No,” she repeated, describing taller figures in the air again with her hands. “No,” she said emphatically, stabbing at the air in front of her invisible parents.

“Oh. You don’t have any parents, do you?” Responding to the sympathy in his tone, the girl shook her head again.

“No,” she said, one last time.

“Remarkable how she learnt that particular word so well,” Jack muttered. Will shot him a look.

“I don’t have parents, either,” he said to the girl, pointedly ignoring his captain. Right, of course – Jack grimaced at his own stupidity and reached out to take Will’s hand. The boy looked at him archly again, but allowed the touch. 

Their visitor glanced back and forth between them and nodded once in approval. Jack was somewhat gratified, considering that she didn’t seem to like him overmuch, but she still had no place on his ship.

“Why do you think she’s here?” he asked, hoping to establish a reasonable front.

Will shrugged. “The pregnant women in the tent did seem to be well attended. Perhaps they’ve sent her along as a sort of nursemaid?”

“Thoughtful as that sounds, we’ve got to take her back, love,” he said as gently as he could. 

“Why?” Will demanded, putting his arm around the girl’s thin shoulders. She snuggled against his knee, turning her nose up at Jack. 

He could feel a vein beginning to throb in his forehead. “Because she doesn’t belong here.”

“You don’t want her here, you mean,” Will sniffed.

Jack stood and spread his arms wide. “Of course I don’t want her here! Look around, William – this is a pirate ship! We are supposed to be fearsome brigands, we can’t be chasin’ around after orphaned girl-children!”

Will straightened, looking offended. “What if our child turns out to be a girl, hmm?”

“That is not what I –” Jack buried his face in his hands and groaned. “I have a reputation to uphold, Will...”

“I see,” said Will. Oh Christ– that tone. Not that tone. He’d thought they were rid of that tone, at least for awhile. “You’re ashamed of me, is that it?”

“No, no, that’s not it at all,” Jack protested, blind-sided by this angle of attack. “I never said that – we weren’t even talking ‘bout you –”

“Oh! So now I’m hearing things,” said Will with a roll of his eyes. “I suppose pregnancy has driven me mad and insensible so you aren’t going to listen to a word I say for the next six months. It’s perfectly all right, I’m nobody important, I’m only your first mate and carrying your mangy, flea-bitten spawn.”

Jack could see no plausible way out of this fight, but he made a cut to freedom anyhow. “Will, sweet –”

“Don’t patronize me!” Will snapped. “This is just like him, you know,” he added to the little girl, whose eyes narrowed on Jack as she shook her head.

One day, Jack thought, one measly day of harmonious living and he was already being shouted at again. Perhaps there was something wrong with his water supply.

He had every intention of storming out of the cabin, pride too battered to listen to another word and patience too thin to trust his own replies, when Will’s eye suddenly flooded with tears. He brushed a sleeve across his face while the girl cooed and hugged his arm.

It was a trick, he told himself, crocodile tears to make him feel guilty. But Will’s helpless-sounding sobs were real, and his shirt sleeve came away wet, and Jack knew they would’ve worked even if they had been false tears.

“I’m sorry,” he said, kneeling in front of Will. It was best to just get that out early and often. “Please don’t cry, lad –”

Will sucked in a breath, his chest heaving. “You think I want to be crying?” His voice started out strong and angry, but quickly faded. “I hate acting like this – feeling like this –”

“I know, I know you do,” Jack murmured, kissing the center of his palm. The little girl clung protectively to his other arm and glowered at the man she perceived to be causing Will distress. Jack sighed, regarding her thoughtfully as he stroked Will’s forearm and listened to the sniffling die down. “You really want her around to help you through this, eh?”

With a tiny, hopeful smile, Will nodded. Reluctantly, hanging onto the ends of the words, Jack said, “The little bit can stay, then.”

He immediately found himself hauled up into powerful arms and hugged tight enough to crack a rib. “Love you,” Will whispered into his ear before releasing him and turning to smile at the girl.

“I go?” she asked, sensing that it had been Jack’s decision and directing the question to him.

“Yeah,” he said grudgingly, accepting a kiss on the cheek from Will. “You go.”

The girl tugged on Will’s hand and beamed. She was a cute little thing, Jack had to admit, especially now that she wasn’t trying to burn a hole in his skull with her eyes.

“We’ve got t’ have a name for you, though,” he said. She cocked her head quizzically and he pointed to himself. “Jack.”

“Sparrow,” she said, poking a finger into his chest.

“Right,” he said before putting a hand on Will’s shoulder. “Will.”

The girl held a hand to Will’s cheek and repeated, “Will.” She put her other hand on his stomach and added, “Will baby.”

“Aye, that’s Will’s baby. So we’ve got me – Sparrow – and Will, and Baby, and...” He held his hands out to her with a grand sweep.

The girl solemnly touched her hand to her forehead and said, “Idrana.”

“There you have it,” said Jack. He shook her hand vigorously. “Pleasure to meet you, Idrana.” She grabbed his hand in both of her own and twisted it this way and that, studying nails and joints and pirate brand with the concentration of a surgeon.

Will leaned into his side. “Thank you, Jack.”

“Haven't had a cabin boy for ages, anyhow,” Jack grumbled, annoyed with himself for being a soft-hearted pushover but grateful for Will’s return to a good mood. “Long as she’s not sleeping in here with us.” He flinched when Idrana tugged on a finger that had been broken twice in the past, wondering how he managed to keep attracting strays even though he’d spent so long as one himself.

Will was in the captain’s cabin with Idrana, doing mathematics with dried beans, when the whooping started up outside.

“Stay here, please,” he said to the girl, punctuating his meaning with a hand held out. Idrana sighed but sank back down, muttering to herself and her piles of beans, as he slipped out through the door. 

He found Jack at the helm, flipping a spyglass in one hand and grinning like a madman. Irritable after having risen early to void his supper, Will found himself all the more annoyed by the crackles of energy surrounding the captain. “What’s going on?”

“Fresh plunder!” He spun Will around and tilted the spyglass up to his eye, almost banging him in the nose. “See ‘er there?” Will squinted though the lens at the fuzzy black dot, which revealed itself as a small ship as Jack fiddled with the glass. “Spanish ’s my guess, though you’d best lay your money down now afore we catch up to her.”

“We’re attacking that ship?”

Jack’s eyes rolled so severely that they might have dropped right out of the sockets. “We’re pirates, love, or have you forgotten so quickly? Hold’s been a little light for some time now, and the rum’s dwindling quicker to compensate. Whatever’s aboard that little lass should do us quite nicely.”

Will looked away from Jack to the ship on the horizon. He couldn’t pin down the sudden swell of uneasiness he felt. It wasn’t cowardice; heavens knew he’d been active in his share of the Pearl’s raids, including a few that had taken a turn for the violent. He’d killed his first man on one such occasion, a captain who’d whimpered surrender and then made a stab at Jack before they could confiscate his weapons. And he’d found it much easier, after getting to know each and every man who sailed beside him, to defend this ship and her crew without hesitation if they were met with resistence. Will never took the blood he shed lightly, but he certainly was not afraid to shed it.

The ship was probably a merchantman and whatever guns she carried were no match for those of the Pearl. He had his sword and his pistol in his belt, an able-bodied crew at his back, and Jack at his side. There should have been adrenaline pumping through his veins, not these panicky nerves.

“What?” Jack’s unusually sharp tone shook Will out of his thoughts. The captain was peering curiously at young Patricks, who had a round pink face and lank blond hair. Patricks had taken something of a shine to Will, a fact Jack used to tease him mercilessly until Will got to badgering him about exactly how he’d met Gibbs. That topic of discussion always shut him up immediately.

Patricks was twisting a finger in his ear, clearly uncertain about questioning the captain. “It’s just, cap’n...what about Mr. Turner?”

“What about Mr. Turner?” Jack asked, whipping his head around to raise his eyebrows at Will, who merely shrugged.

Worry was plain in Patricks’ eyes as he shifted his weight from foot to foot. “I mean...” He cleared his throat and his voice dropped to a whisper. “I mean the baby, sir.”

The man’s words acted like a match to the feelings Will had been unable to name up till that point; a ferocious protectiveness turned his muscles rigid and made his hands clench into fists.

“Feller’s right.” Anamaria, slinking up from where she’d been listening in, nodded smartly to Will. “First time we ever got a body on board what can’t protect itself.”

“But it’s inside Will!” Jack protested, boggling at her. "And the boy can handle himself, as we all know.”

“There’s Idrana, too,” Will put in, smiling at Patricks. It touched him that the crew had warmed so quickly to his strange predicament. Not a one had come forth to condemn him, Jack, or the island magics that had made it possible, and he even found himself being cosseted by the hardened pirates who’d grown fond of him. Jack gritted his teeth and tolerated hands on his first mate but he’d drawn the line at offers of foot rubs, declaring that only the captain had the right to administer them. There had been a formal statement issued and an oath sworn by everyone aboard one Sunday morning.

Patricks blushed and retreated. Will made a quick decision to personally oversee his next visit to a brothel, because something wasn’t being done correctly. 

Jack suddenly snapped his fingers, looking pleased with himself as he normally did. “I’ve got it. We’ll lock Will and the scrap down in the hold during the capture so no harm’ll come to either.”

“Excuse me?” Will planted fists on his hips, indignant at this blow to his pride. “I’ll not be hidden below like a woman. Sorry,” he added quickly as Anamaria’s brows drew together and she seemed to be seriously reconsidering the drunken promise that she wouldn’t strike him while he was pregnant. 

“All right then, stay and fight if you wish –”

“No!” Will snapped, holding a hand to his belly. “I won’t expose my child to the risk of violence, not when I can help it.”

Jack took a deep breath, steepling his hands in front of his chest as he called up reserves of patience. Will snorted at his melodrama. “Then please tell me, my dear boy,” he said, very slowly and carefully, “what exactly you would have me do, if you won’t go below and you won’t fight.”

“Let it go,” said Will.

“Let what go?”

“The ship,” Will replied matter-of-factly. “We've stores enough from the island. Let it pass without attacking. Then there’ll be no danger to anyone.”

For a moment Jack simply stared at him. “Let...it...go,” he repeated as if he were having trouble making sense of the words. Will nodded, satisfied with this solution.

“Will,” said Jack softly, reaching out a hand to pat his shoulder. “I understand where you’re comin’ from, I really, really do. But wouldn’t it be sensible if we just kept you in a safe place, completely out of the action, totally secure in the knowledge that I would never, ever let anything happen to you or the babe?” His eyes got rounder and mistier with every second passing, sincerity pitching his voice low as he leaned in close.

“No,” said Will, refusing to be manipulated no matter how solicitous Jack could be when he put his mind to it.

“Is this about last night?” A hint of a whine crept into Jack’s voice despite his obvious attempts to control himself. He turned to Anamaria and used his hands in spirited defense. “‘Cause I swear, I asked the whelp time and again if he was tired and he just yelled at me to keep suck–”

“Jack,” said Will sharply. Stark evidence of their nocturnal – and all right, frequently diurnal – activities aside, he hated the knowing smirk on the woman’s face. 

Jack turned to regard him with a cocked eyebrow and a firmly set mouth, abruptly serious. “‘M still your captain. I could order you below.”

“You could,” Will conceded, and Jack’s eyes lit with hope. “But I wouldn't forgive you for it.”

His face crumpled as he gave up all pretense of rational behavior. “But look at her!” he cried, jabbing a finger at the unsuspecting victim. “She’s fat with cargo – ridin’ low –”

Will and Anamaria both scrunched their faces up at his choice of wording, which was questionable at the best of times but doubly so when he was too distressed to notice their reactions.

“It’d be so easy to take her! She’s practically dead in the water!” At this point he’d actually begun hopping up and down with frustration, looking very much like an irate monkey.

Will told him calmly, “I’ve said what I have to say. This is your ship, your choice...” _And your child_ was implied by the hands he folded over his middle. Jack’s gaze dropped and he closed his eyes tightly, a muscle twitching in his cheek.

“Fine,” he said, the strain evident in his tone. “You win.” He waved a hand in the direction of Anamaria and Gibbs, who had been slowly coming closer while trying not to draw attention to himself. “Take care of it. I’m going aloft.” His eyes were still closed when he slipped his boots off and began to climb into the shrouds.

Will looked again at the ship, drawing away now with no clue of how lucky she’d been, before he returned to the cabin to nap with Idrana curled up against his back. He dreamed again about being pulled from the water, only this time it was Jack and a grown-up Elizabeth who knelt to peer down at the scrawny twelve-year-old boy. _Doesn’t look like he’s going to make it_ , she said. _Shame, that_ , replied Jack with the same lack of affect, and they left him gasping on the deck. 

Idrana woke from his tossing and scooted against the headboard, running her fingers through his hair and murmuring to him in her own language until he relaxed.

 

Up in the mizzentop, Jack gnawed on a thumbnail and glared at the speck of ship until it faded away and the sun began to burn his eyes.

Will had a point and it was a good one. Much could go wrong even with the simplest of raids, even if he’d somehow managed to convince Will to sequester himself and the girl in relative safety. The thought of putting him in that kind of danger should have been unconscionable.

But they both lived a certain kind of life, and that life was meant to provide for them as best it could. A pirate who turned down merchants bearing rich cargo would soon find himself starving, perhaps abandoned. The Pearl’s crew was made up mostly of good folk, but he’d caught a few exchanging baleful looks when he’d passed up the ship. Besides which, he had no right to repeatedly ask that of any man, even if he genuinely cared for Will – perhaps especially then.

This was not a question of treasure and glory; it was about survival. A child would have a shaky welcome indeed if its parents were unable to eke out a living doing what they had signed on for.

“Quite the quandary,” he remarked to a little green lizard that had crawled onto his breeches, presumably taken aboard with the rest of the supplies from Idrana's island. Interesting that it had managed to thrive so far away from its home.

“Home!” he exclaimed, startling the lizard so that it scurried away. Jack slapped the knee where it had been. “Of course – why didn’t I think of it before?”

It would take some coaxing to get Will back on land again, especially over Port Royal way, and there was always the Commodore to consider, but hopefully darling Lizzie would have gained enough perspective and wisdom in the year since her onetime fiancé had been gone from her to shelter him in his time of need.

After all, Jack reflected as he swung himself down the lines, she still owed him for the rum.


	6. Chapter 6

“Oh for God’s sake, Will, quit pouting. You know as well as I that this’s the best thing we can do.”

Standing beside Jack in front of Commodore Norrington’s home, Will shuffled his feet and shot the captain a glare. “Perhaps, but I don’t have to enjoy being shunted aside like so much ballast.”

Jack sighed and knocked again. No use arguing with the boy when he was sulking. Shame – he’d been in such a good mood lately, cheerful and friendly. But the moment Jack had brought up the idea of seeking shelter in Port Royal - strictly on a temporary basis, mind - thunderheads had gathered in Will’s brown eyes. He’d been short with Jack ever since, though he’d reluctantly agreed to the scheme. Not even the prospect of seeing Elizabeth again seemed to console him.

“It won’t be so bad,” Jack said encouragingly. “You’ll have the little mistress with you.” On the other side of Will, Idrana glanced up at him, fiddling with the twin braids they’d fixed her hair in for the occasion. She patted Will’s clenched hand.

Will refused to be placated. “That’s if Norrington doesn’t shoot us on sight.” He straightened as a maid opened the door. Her eyes widened in alarm and Jack quickly began to speak before she could get a word out or possibly scream.

“Good afternoon, madam,” he said with a gallant tip of his hat, ignoring Will’s petulant snort. “We are looking for the lady of the house – a very old and dear friend of ours – if she be in and you’d be so kind as to fetch her.”

“HellomynameisIdranaandIamverypleasedtomeetyou,” the little girl added. Her English lessons were proceeding apace, but she tended to forget to pause for breath when she was nervous.

“I’m going to tell Elizabeth that you called her old,” Will muttered to Jack.

Looking more overwhelmed than frightened now, clearly not expecting formal diction from a man of Jack’s appearance, the maid nodded and said in a timid voice, “Won’t you just...wait here...” And she slammed the door.

With a groan, Will let his forehead thunk against the white-painted wood. “I’ll bet she’s gone off to fetch the commodore. Brilliant plan, Jack. We’ll just waltz on up to the front door as if we belong here, despite the fact that there’s a price on both our heads.”

“There’s no need to be conceited,” Jack replied. “You haven’t been in the business near long enough to –”

Will pointedly turned his back. “That was very good,” he said to Idrana, who dimpled at him. “But you might want to try it slower – My name is...”

The girl nodded and began to speak like the flow of molasses rather than quicksilver, drawing out each letter on her tongue. “My... Name... Is...”

Before she could finish, the door swung open again. This time it was Elizabeth and her face was lit by a smile.

“Will! Jack!” She flung herself forward, attempting to land in both pairs of arms at once. Jack chuckled and let Will embrace her first, trying to quash feelings of jealousy at the delight with which Will swept her up, lifting her from the ground. Not entirely fair that he shouldn’t be shown the same manner of enthusiasm, considering whose bed the boy now shared and especially considering the condition they would soon have to explain to the young Mrs. Norrington.

His bitterness faded with the sweetness of Elizabeth’s laugh as she hugged him too. “What on earth are you two doing here? Please tell me no one saw you on your way in, James would be put out at having to explain – and who’s this?” Releasing Jack, she peered down at Idrana, who took a deep, steadying breath and repeated the mantra Will had taught her at the same breakneck speed as before.

“She’s something of a –” Will paused, exchanging a glance with Jack.

“A ship's mascot, as it were,” he supplied. At Elizabeth’s curious frown, he moved to change the subject. There’d be time enough to explain why Idrana was with them. “Sun’s murder today, love, would y’mind if we came inside?”

“I would mind,” said a low voice from the shadows beyond the doorway. Elizabeth sighed and drew aside to allow her husband to come forth. Jack recognized the frown affixed to Norrington’s face as the one he himself tended to put into commission.

“Good day, Commodore,” he said brightly. “Not hard at work keeping the seas safe from the likes o' us, I gather?”

The other man's frown deepened. “I have the liberty of taking an occasional afternoon off, Sparrow.”

Observing Elizabeth’s bare feet, Norrington’s rumpled shirt, and the clearly post-coital flush to their cheeks, Jack merely raised an eyebrow. Afternoon off, indeed. Good on Elizabeth for apparently being adept at removing the stick from the commodore’s navy-blue arse.

As Idrana's mouth opened for another recitation, Elizabeth carefully steered Norrington away by his elbow. “It would be prudent to move this discussion to the parlor, don’t you think?” She turned her head and twitched it at Jack and Will, who stepped into the cool, dark foyer and shut the door behind them.

Jack felt Will draw unconsciously nearer to him and pull Idrana against his side as they followed the Norringtons down the hall. The two of them were speaking with their heads bent close together, in low voices that he couldn’t make out no matter how he strained his ears. Fortunately some accord seemed to have been reached by the time they were all settled in the parlor and Elizabeth had called for tea. Apparently they weren't to be chucked out at once - another hit for Elizabeth.

Seated next to a subdued Norrington, Elizabeth gazed across the coffee table at her guests. “So what is it that brings you back to Port Royal? Not that I'm not thrilled to see you again, but surely there are safer waters.”

Jack attempted to get Will to do the talking, but an elbow gently prodding his ribs only resulted in Will stiffening and shaking his head. Bollocks. Was every damn thing Jack’s responsibility now?

Seeking to stall and let the fire in Norrington’s stare cool a bit, he waved off her question. “Oh, we’ve been here an’ there, but you don’t want to hear about all that. How’ve you been, Lizzie darling?”

Elizabeth glanced to her husband with a small half-smile. “Very well, thank you. In fact, we have some good news.”

At her words, Norrington’s hangdog expression softened somewhat. He left off glowering at the two pirates to fix contented green eyes on his wife. Jack did have to admire his regard for the girl, considering everything that had happened betwixt his first suit and the one she'd accepted.

“I'm going to have a baby,” Elizabeth burst out, clasping her hands in her lap.

Jack grinned at life’s little coincidences. “My most sincere congratulations,” he said, with a stiff-faced nod to the commodore, who was still gazing adoringly at Elizabeth and didn’t notice.

Beside him, Will had come alive again. “That’s wonderful, Elizabeth!” To Jack’s surprise, the boy took his hand and gave him a shy smile. At this Norrington did take notice with a raised eyebrow, though he did not seem shocked - Elizabeth must've told him how the wind blew aboard the Pearl. Well, he could hardly censure them for it with his little lieutenants sporting right under his nose.

“Actually – and this is going to come as something more of a shock," Will admitted with a twist of his mouth at Jack, "we’re expecting as well.”

It had been quite the opportune moment, after all. Jack squeezed his hand and turned to Elizabeth, anticipating a purple-faced fit until they could sufficiently explain themselves.

Her smile didn't falter, but she looked puzzled. “Expecting what?”

Norrington glanced up at them just in time to catch Jack’s mouth opening, then freezing as he found himself at a rare loss for words. Will bit his lip and whatever look he exchanged with Elizabeth caused her to understand. They always did have that uncanny bond.

Her jaw dropped. “Oh,” she said faintly. Then, her face reddening: “Oh.”

Peering at each of them, Norrington gathered what he need to know from the uncomfortable silence and Will’s fidgeting. His face contorted like he’d just been hit in the gut. **“How? What? How?”** His voice rose into a near squeak on the last syllable.

 **“Three excellent questions,”** said Jack, clearing his throat.

“I think the most important one,” said Elizabeth, shaking her head in disbelief, “is ‘how’? More precisely, how in bloody hell did you...” Norrington winced the wince of a long-suffering companion – an affectation Jack knew something about – at her swearing.

“It’s something of a long story,” Jack told her.

“Got mixed up in a fertility ritual,” said Will with a shrug. He sipped his tea.

 **“Apparently not that long**.” Jack made a face, resentful of being deprived of the opportunity to spin the tale the way it deserved, with lots of embellishment and salacious details.

Elizabeth was still visibly reeling. She lifted a hand into the air and paused, not knowing what to do with it. “Are – are you quite sure?” she finally asked.

In answer, Will pulled the hem of his shirt out from his breeches, both items borrowed from a meaty crewman since his own had begun to cling. He bunched the fabric in his fist above the telltale bump. It might have been easy to mistake as just a bit of pudge when concealed, but the way the weight was distributed, and the fact that Will was still as lean as ever elsewhere, left no doubt once one knew the facts.

“I thought you’d just been enjoying a bit too much rum,” Elizabeth murmured, staring at the rounded flesh under Will’s fingers. Jack wanted to lace them through with his own, but Norrington was already green-faced enough, and he had no intention of overstaying their welcome.

“No, it’s true,” said Will. Jack was tickled to see a pleased, if a bit embarrassed, flush spread over his face. When Elizabeth glanced back up, there was something much softer than shock in her eyes.

“Well, cheers,” she said, smiling at them both. “Isn’t it remarkable, James?”

“Remarkable,” Norrington mumbled, taking a deep breath. “Yes, I suppose it is, at that.” He patted her knee and rose. “I believe I need a drink.”

“In the middle of the day, Commodore?” Jack said, gleeful at having this whole new opportunity to devil the man. Norrington fixed bleary green eyes on him before turning on his heel and retreating to a far corner of the room.

Chuckling, Jack turned back to Will and discovered that Elizabeth had planted herself on his other side, clutching at his arm. Her face was now bright with excitement.

“How far along?”

“About three months,” Will replied. Jack had forgotten the way they could narrow a space down to just the two of them, for all that they'd settled into friendship instead of romance. It could be a mite lonely for other parties present, and he wondered if Norrington felt the same. The commodore was sipping slowly but with intense focus from a glass of what looked like brandy.

“You must tell me everything,” Elizabeth was demanding of Will. Idrana hovered nearby, watching them avidly and drinking in each word, though she couldn’t possibly have understood all of them. Jack heaved a sigh, accepting the fact that he was in the minority here. 

With a quick peck to Will’s shoulder that went thoroughly unnoticed, he got to his feet and approached Norrington. “Looks like good stuff, there, mate,” he said, his nose confirming his guess.

Norrington glanced sideways at him, as if afraid to entice him to move closer. His hand hovered over the neck of the crystal decanter.

“Would – would you like –” he began, his face contorting briefly as if the very thought of a friendly gesture pained him.

Jack dug in his jacket pocket, producing a small flask. “Never without me own.” Norrington wrinkled his nose distastefully as Jack took a swallow of rum, but said nothing.

The familiar taste lent him courage. He was not afraid of the commodore, oh no – certainly not with his wife in residence – but what he was about to ask, and the lengths to which Norrington would probably ask him to go, made his toes curl inside his boots. This was for Will, he reminded himself fiercely, and for the child as well.

“You must be wonderin’ why I’d dare to step foot in the place that’s near been the death of me so recently,” he said, tapping on the side of his flask with a nervous fingertip.

“The thought had crossed my mind,” said Norrington dryly.

“It’s like this, see,” said Jack, his voice dropping to a murmur as he leaned in close, ignoring Norrington’s frown. “There’s nothing in this world I wouldn’t give to keep that boy safe, an’ I’m afraid I can’t do it while conducting a proper business.”

“While robbing innocent merchants blind, you mean.”

Jack grinned. “Precisely. What I’m proposing is a temporary truce of sorts, between th’ two of us, so that I might leave Will here for a bit, out of harm’s way, and be on about my affairs.”

Norrington’s eyebrows raised with a mild expression that might have been amusement. “And what would I be gaining from this arrangement, Mr. Sparrow?”

 _Captain_ , Jack thought with a wince, but he let it go this time. “Why, a bosom companion for your wife, of course. The satisfaction of helping out a fellow expectant father. And we'll give a wide berth to any English vessels,” he conceded with a grimace, “if it please you.”

“I do believe that could be construed as an attempted bribe,” said Norrington. “I’ll be sure to add it to the already considerable tally of your offenses once I’ve arrested you.”

He looked like he meant it, and Jack’s spirits sank a little. He clasped his hands in front of his chest, gaze boring into Norrington’s. “There’s no possible way I could get you to do us this one teensy, tinesy favor, eh?” He offered a hesitant half-grin. “You’re a reasonable man, after all.”

Norrington snorted. “Yes, that’s been exactly the problem in my previous dealings with you, Sparrow.” His lips tightened in what Jack hoped was sincere reconsideration as he glanced over at the sofa where Will and Elizabeth were perched, talking animatedly to one another. Jack caught a few words about morning sickness and swollen ankles. He and the commodore shuddered at the same time; both noticing it, they traded wary, measuring looks.

“Nothing you wouldn’t do, is that right?” Norrington asked slowly.

“Aye," said Jack, though he blanched at the thought of what Norrington might want. If he asked for the Pearl, Jack was just going to have to clock him a good one, grab Will and the little bit, and make a run for it.

But at the triumphant gleam in Norrington’s eye, the way his back straightened, Jack suddenly knew what he had in mind, and it filled him with sick dread.

“You wouldn’t,” he said with palpable despair.

“I’ve the papers in my office,” Norrington replied. “Drew them up months ago, at Elizabeth’s request, though she warned me at the time that she doubted you’d ever agree.” A smirk at the back of Will’s head. “I suppose it was just a matter of proper leverage.”

"Been saving that one, have you,” Jack muttered. “This’s really the only way you’ll agree, then?”

“It is,” said Norrington, inclining his head. “We can always use another privateer in these waters - God knows the Spanish and the French have enough of their own.”

Jack set his flask on the sideboard, feeing a headache threatening at his temples. If he’d been asked before this about the chances of his turning even mildly legitimate, especially for Norrington, he would have said something about hell and high water and kingdom come before the Black Pearl would ever sail under any colors but his own.

Will laughed at something Elizabeth had said, catching Jack’s eye over her head. Jack returned his smile with only a touch of regret. There were things more important than pride.

He clamped down a heavy sigh and stuck his hand out. “Accord struck.”

The commodore shook it after a brief hesitation, looking uncomfortable but bearing something like respect in his eyes. “In just a few strokes of the pen, you’ll be a British citizen once more, Captain Sparrow.”

 _Now he deigns to use it,_ Jack thought in irritation. “Splendid,” he said. He kept his grip on Norrington's fingers. “And you’ll keep Will safe until I’ve returned?”

“Mr. Turner will have our hospitality,” Norrington assured him, wrenching his hand free. “What about the little girl?”

“Oh, Idrana stays with Will, though you’re certainly welcome to try an' pry her from his side.”

Norrington closed his eyes. “Just tell me the child is not escaped from a plantation or a ship fresh from Africa.”

“She isn’t,” said Jack.

Norrington's eyes narrowed at the sharp tone of his voice. Taking stock of the dark expression on Jack’s face – slavery was one of the very many things he was less than keen on about the nation he was about to reclaim – the commodore said in a low voice, “I’ve little patience in dealing with slavers. I’d prefer not to attract their attention.”

Today was just one surprise after another. “Understood,” he said, circling the arm of the sofa to drop down beside Will.

Elizabeth’s brows were knit together, her expression grave. “Now, about sex –” Jack stifled a snicker as her eyes darted up to Norrington and Will squirmed. “–sections of the island you stayed on. I imagine the natural foliage was simply stunning.” She beamed at her husband, who sighed in apparent exhaustion and flopped his head back against his chair, draping an arm over his eyes.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Bolded lines borrowed without permission from "Buffy the Vampire Slayer."


	7. Chapter 7

For Elizabeth and Will, the following week or so was a time for gossip and secret-sharing, for catching up on one another’s lives. Out of respect, Will was somewhat more distant with Norrington around, but the air of camaraderie still hung about them like a veil. Jack, annoyed that he should not be included in the club but used to being on the outs with Will, smiled indulgently at them and made sure to lavish attention on his first mate when they were alone. Norrington had grown accustomed to being able to hold Elizabeth’s attention and, finding himself so dismissed in the presence of the man she had once loved, did not accept circumstances so graciously. Instead he pouted, well and often.

One afternoon, as the four of them were walking along a deserted stretch of beach to the west of town, Elizabeth managed to notice her husband's sulking. She and Will were walking arm in arm, chattering about making mudpies behind the baker’s as children, and Jack was ambling along beside them, scanning the horizon and humming under his breath. James was hanging back, dragging his feet and scowling down at the sand.

Suppressing a smile, Elizabeth patted Will’s hand and dropped back. Before Will had time to do more than blink at her in surprise, Jack had settled into Elizabeth’s place, tilting his head to whisper something in Will’s ear that made his mouth twitch and his ears redden.

James carefully schooled his face into an expression of impassivity, but as she took his arm she caught his genuine smile creeping out.

“It’s a nice day, isn’t it?” she asked, pressing her cheek to his shoulder.

“It is a lovely day.” She could hear the smile in his voice, and her fingers tightened around his.

In front of them, Will and Jack had drawn some way ahead. Flicking his hair back, Jack turned his head to say, “Saw an interesting bird swoop into those trees there, going to inspect.” He winked at Elizabeth and tugged Will into the relative privacy of a clump of bushes at the edge of the treeline.

Norrington let out a much-maligned sigh. “Were there ever two people so ridiculous?”

“Don’t be unkind, love,” said Elizabeth, poking him in the ribs. “I seem to remember a time in which a certain young commodore looked for any excuse he could find to pull a governor’s daughter aside.”

“Yes, but think of their – their situation,” James griped, frowning as the leaves rustled above their heads. “It’s indecent on more than one level.”

Elizabeth rolled her eyes. “Do try to let it go, James.”

He shrugged, taking advantage of the movement to draw her under his arm. “I’ve done my best. I simply can’t think of a more unfortunate candidate for reproduction than Jack Sparrow.”

“Jack is –” Elizabeth began before she was interrupted by a shout. Exchanging a dire glance with James, she hiked up her skirts and followed her husband into the little copse.

Jack was attempting to sheathe his sword, hampered by Will’s frantically clinging limbs. Making sure that they both appeared to be all right, Elizabeth exclaimed, “What happened?”

“Snake,” Will said, pointing to a bright green coil at Jack’s feet. “It dropped from the trees.” He shuddered and turned his face into Jack’s neck. Jack patted him absently.

James muttered something about the negative effects of sodomy, coddling, and pregnancy on a man’s nerves and Elizabeth ignored him. “You’ve never been frightened of snakes before,” Elizabeth said to Will, surprised at his reaction. “You used to rescue those little black snakes when Thomas Ryan and Daniel Yount would capture and taunt them.”

He raised wide eyes to her, still draped over Jack's shoulder. “You’re right. I suppose I was struck by fear for the baby.”

Elizabeth glanced down at the snake, trying to see if it inspired any such fears in her. It merely looked dead.

Jack poked it with the toe of his boot, causing Will’s arms to latch about his neck. “Augh – you’re chokin’ me, William.”

“Sorry,” Will muttered, his grip loosening only slightly, his eyes never leaving the snake. “Please don’t touch it, Jack, it might still be dangerous.”

Behind Elizabeth, James snorted. Elizabeth ground her heel onto his foot and he fell silent.

Jack’s head was cocked to the side, his eyes bright and curious. “Wonder if we could eat it?”

“I’d rather not, if it’s all the same to you,” said Elizabeth. Will nodded in assent, rubbing at his stomach with one hand.

“Y’don’t know what you’re missing,” said Jack, still examining the dead reptile. “Snake’s a delicacy in lotsa parts o’ the world – roasted, boiled, stewed, cut up into little chunks and shish kebob’d with pineapple and peppers...tastes just like chicken, I swear...”

“Oh God,” Will groaned. He finally released his captain in order to spin around and retch into a nearby bush.

“That is disgusting,” said James. “Elizabeth? Eliz –” For she had taken a closer look at the snake, seen that it was oozing something quite unlike blood from its mouth, and followed Will.

Jack and the commodore looked at one another with a rare instance of perfect understanding. Then they both sighed and went to take care of hair-holding duties.

 

Will was drifting, floating through clouds on a sea the color of Jack’s eyes. He let his head loll back, staring at the sunless sky above him. A splash just to the left of his head interrupted his blissful reverie and he turned, catching the sight of something at the very corner of his eye. He turned and reached for it – reached – stretched – just a bit further...

The sky broke up with a sound like thunder and shattering glass. Will huddled, drew into himself, and the whatever-it-was slipped soundlessly away.

He opened his eyes, getting a sideways view of the fireplace in Elizabeth’s guest room. The sound came again, rattling air against the back of his neck, and he sighed.

“Jack, you’re snoring,” he said, turning under the arm Jack had draped across his hips. His only response was another long, rumbling snore. With a small smile, Will rubbed one hand up and down Jack’s back, stroking his chest in a matched rhythm with the other. “Jack,” he whispered against the bob of Jack’s throat as he smacked his lips and swallowed lazily, “wake up, you old pirate. Jaa–aack...” Fingertips crept ever inward, over the swell of arse and up the front of his thigh to cup a stirring erection.

Jack moved into his caress, his mouth curving sensuously. Will rubbed his thumb in little circles over half-hard flesh, then stopped.

Pulled out of sleep by disappointment, Jack cracked his eyelids to half-mast and peered at him. “Hullo.” His voice was low and rough, smoky with sleep. It was, Will thought with a great deal of certainty and a shiver, the most erotic greeting that had ever been spoken in the history of the world. 

Will shifted onto his elbow to wake him properly with a kiss, but the new angle to the world put his head and his stomach into a familiar spin. He scrambled amidst the bedding, leaning over the side to heave into the chamber pot on the floor. 

As the convulsions left him trembling and grimacing at the taste in his mouth, he felt Jack’s hands sliding cool against the back of his neck.

“All right?” Jack’s voice was full of concern this time, and Will allowed a sigh for the lost moment.

“Fine,” he said shortly, letting himself be pulled back into bed and against Jack’s chest.

Kisses rained down on the top of his head. “You know,” said Jack, still petting him, “I’m ‘bout ready for this part t’ be over with.”

“I really agree,” said Will with feeling.

 

All the way home, James told himself that he would not allow Sparrow to draw him into an argument tonight. Last night’s battle over supper had ended in Sparrow smirking and preening, James red with suppressed rage, Will with his head in his hands, and Elizabeth ordering the both of them out of the dining room. It didn’t matter how Sparrow prodded, how many rude hints he dropped, however he managed to ferret out every one of James’ buttons and gleefully poke at them – tonight James was going to ignore him completely.

When he arrived at the house, however, he found a strangely empty parlor. A search of the lower floor turned up no one, so he made his way upstairs.

Elizabeth was leaning against the wall opposite the spare room, wincing as she stared at the door. Idrana was huddled at her feet, tying sailor’s knots in a length of twine.

“Shhh,” Elizabeth hissed as he approached, not taking her eyes from the door. “Jack and Will are having some kind of row in there. They shouted for a good ten minutes, but now it’s strangely quiet. We’re hanging about to make sure they haven’t done injury to one another.”

James bit back a snappish reply and instead smiled down at the little girl on the floor, who buried her face in Elizabeth’s skirts. He had no idea why she would never look him in the eye – whether she was just shy or whether he frightened her in some way.

Just then the door burst open and three pairs of eyes jerked to a panting Jack Sparrow. His bedraggled hair and shirt were soaked, and he had a red flower tangled absurdly around an ear.

As one, they peeked around him at the darkened room, but he quickly closed the door until there was only room for his head to poke out.

“We’re, er, not gonna make it to supper,” he said breathlessly. His eyes were glassy with something like panic.

“Is everything all right?” Elizabeth asked, obviously worried about Will.

Sparrow nodded, sending droplets splattering against the doorjamb. James made a face; there was no telling what resided in that filthy mane. “Might be a coupla things broken in here –” He glanced behind him with an aggrieved expression. The twisting of his body revealed a tear in his right sleeve, the linen there smudged with a small amount of blood.

James was really not in any hurry to discover what mess had happened inside the room. Seeing an infernal curiosity take over Elizabeth’s face, he tucked his hand under her arm and drew her away.

“James, let me go!” she hissed, yanking out of his grasp.

“We’d best leave them to it,” he replied, looking back to see Idrana behind them, tripping over the hem of the too-large dress the cook had given her.

“We don’t even know what they're7–”

“I spotted the Black Pearl today, just for a moment before she disappeared back into the fog,” said James, his mood darkening at the reminder that he was no longer allowed to hunt that particular ship. Despite everything else, he did enjoy the chase. “I imagine Sparrow will be setting out on the dawn tide.”

Elizabeth looked blank for an instant before she closed her eyes. “And he conveniently forgot to tell Will that he was going, I’ll wager.”

“Precisely,” said James.

“Well...” Elizabeth gazed back down the hallway with a regretful sigh. “I do hope we didn’t have anything of your mother’s in there.”

“Of course not,” he assured her. “I removed everything of value before I let them step foot in the room.”

 

Will woke when Jack crept out of bed and began gathering his things, but he remained still and feigned sleep. Although the evidence of tears had been carefully kissed away, his eyes still felt hot and raw. At least the headache had gone.

He didn’t remember at what point during the night he’d fallen asleep, only that it had been late and Jack had been curled around him after one of his efforts at leaving Will with something to last through the weeks apart – sometime after forgiveness and before the resignation that had come upon him while he slumbered.

Jack moved quiet as a cat, going to the window once to check the sky but not striking a light. When he was finished, he paused. Will could feel him hovering over the bed. Fingertips stroked lightly across his cheek and Will tensed, preparing to part from him in the same tide of desperate, painful longing with which he’d clung in the night.

But the door clicked open and then shut with no further touches.

Will sat bolt upright, staring around the dark bedroom. Did he really think he was going to get away with sneaking out like the thief he was?

He didn’t bother to dress, only threw a shirt on and hurried after Jack. At the door he was beset by a twinge of pain and he had to wait, both hands at the small of his back, before it passed.

Jack, it seemed, had gone through the house with interest more in silence than speed. Will caught up with him in the foyer, a pack slung over his shoulder and his hat askew on his head. Padding up behind him, he reached out to tug it straight. Jack turned slowly, not looking at all surprised to see Will standing before him.

“Going to leave without saying goodbye?” His voice came out harsher than he’d meant and Jack flinched. Grinding his teeth, Will all but threw himself forward. Hands came to his hips and then traveled up, gliding over his shoulder blades. Will pressed closer and Jack curved his back to make room for the added barrier against his lean stomach.

“William, William,” Jack breathed against the side of his neck. “It’s only for a little while.”

 _I’m acting like a fool_ , Will thought scornfully, but Jack kissed his jaw and his next thought was, _Oh God I’ll die if he leaves me._

He shuddered. Yes, he was a fool, but then so was Jack, and Will didn’t want to be alone in his foolishness.

“You have to let go, Will,” said Jack gently, patting his shoulder.

“I am,” said Will, his voice muffled in Jack’s hair.

A few moments in which they stood unmoving, and Jack said, “Yes, I can see that.”

Despite himself, Will chuckled. He finally managed to make his body obey him and released Jack enough to be able to look into his eyes, which were as sorrowful as Will felt.

“Please be careful,” he said, his throat tightening around the words.

Jack’s smile was watery. “What happened to ‘everything’ll be all right, I feel it,’ eh?”

“That’s different,” Will insisted. “I can’t trust you to keep yourself out of trouble if I’m not around to watch you.”

“As far as keeping outta trouble goes, I’d say between us, we’ve done quite the bang-up job,” he said, his gaze dropping to Will’s belly. He rubbed both hands across the bump. “And you, little one, stop makin’ people ill all the time, savvy? It’s a pretty trick, but the novelty’s worn off.”

“You do know that it can’t hear you.”

Jack bestowed a hearty kiss upon him. “Don’t know that fer sure,” he said, touching his lips again and again to Will’s mouth. “Gotta make an impression – just in case.” Will moaned softly as he pulled away, his hands tightening before he finally let go, his every instinct protesting.

“Good lad,” said Jack unsteadily. He kissed Will’s brow and squeezed his hands. “Don’t forget I love you.”

“Don’t forget I love you back,” Will replied. “And don’t do anything –” 

“Stupid,” Jack finished with a nod. “Go back to bed, sweet.”

When he pulled away, one of Will’s hands inadvertently went with him; he clucked in reproval and shook himself free. 

Will sat down on the rug quickly enough to make his head spin, staring at the closed door. It was full light before Idrana tiptoed down the stairs to find him still sitting there, chin tucked between his drawn-up knees. She talked in her own language, sometimes chiding, sometimes soothing, as she drew him to his feet and led him back to bed.

 

When he’d first set foot upon its docks, Jack had not particularly cared for Port Royal. He’d heard that it had once been a bawdy, exciting place, but the Crown had done its best to turn it as safe and dull as possible. It was just another little corner of Jamaica, claiming a famed pirate-hunting captain and a handful of grand ships for its home port, but wholly unremarkable.

Returning as a free man, he thought it was the most stunning beautiful stretch of land he’d ever seen. He saluted the bones hanging at Gallows Point and waved cheerfully to the sailors as they docked. He was even in a good enough mood to tip the harbormaster quite handsomely. Anamaria was convinced he’d lost his mind at last and made several suspicious-looking hand gestures to ward him off. 

Technically it was his duty to report to Fort Charles and its highest commanding officer. That man being Norrington, Jack figured they were past such formalities and merely set off for the house, after turning his crew loose on the handful of taverns by the harbor. He’d meant to come back once or twice in the past four months, but in October they’d been caught in a particularly vicious storm, having to stand idle for weeks while the ship was repaired, and not long after that there had been a French vessel that kept popping into view and then skittering off. Jack was determined to take her as a prize, so he’d followed her through a merry chase. Unfortunately it had ended with the a firefight in the wee hours of the morning and the Frenchie rotting at the bottom of the sea, but better her than the Pearl, and they had at least managed to save most of the crew and pilfer a supply of sugarcane.

Jack had spent long hours going over the stories in his head, hours he would normally have spent lazing about in bed with Will. It passed the time and assuaged some of his loneliness. Besides which, the tales were insurance; should Will become angry at the long absence, Jack was fully prepared to stave off argument by talking him to death. For the first time he was able to fully understand how Bill could have left the wife and son Jack knew he’d loved. It was neglectful, yes, but it wasn’t malicious or even intentional; it was the way time passed differently at sea than on land, and how simple it was for a sailor to forget or disregard that distance. The comparison made him uneasy and he'd pressed the crew and the ship hard in the final voyage back to Port Royal.

The maid who answered the door let him in with a resigned sigh, ignoring Jack’s charming smile. “Missus is in th’ parlor, sir.”

“Thank you, m’ dear girl,” said Jack, bowing over her hand and making as if to kiss it. The maid snatched it away from him, clucking her tongue in disapproval.

He found the lady of the house seated at a small table. She and Idrana were bent over a number of old, battered readers, and the little girl was painstakingly reciting a couple of verses about a tabbycat and some bluebonnets.

“Welcome back,” said Elizabeth, smiling at him. He waved a hand as she started to get up, bending over her chair to kiss her cheek. An attempt to greet Idrana got him a scowl and he quickly backed off.

“Learnin’ our letters, are we?” he asked, looking down at her scribbles.

“Know my letters,” she said primly, with an approximation of a English schoolgirl’s accent that wasn’t half bad. “Learning words.”

“Splendid,” said Jack. Will had mentioned getting her primers before Jack had left. And Will had not come barreling into his arms the moment he stepped over the threshold.

Elizabeth caught his glances around the room and took pity on him. “He’s over there having a nap,” she said, pointing to a settee that had been pulled up to face the fire. There were a pair of bare feet dangling over the edge; one of them twitched a bit, and a snort rose from the hidden slumberer.

Jack rubbed his palms together as he tiptoed around the settee, prepared to spook the boy into waking. But upon catching sight of Will, he found his hands falling limply to his sides and could do nothing but stare. Will was sleeping comfortably – or as comfortably as he could get, considering he was too big for the furniture and he had to accommodate a belly much more encumbering than the one Jack had last seen. There was an old book full of pirate stories lying open in one hand. Jack took it carefully, setting it aside, freezing when Will twitched. But he settled again, long lashes fluttering against his cheeks before falling still. Jack knelt beside him, reaching out to stroke a wayward curl from his brow. It might have been the long stretch apart, but his skin seemed softer than the tiny sets of baby clothing Jack had remembered to pick up.

“Hello,” said Will with his eyes still closed. His hand groped for whatever it could reach, finding his waistcoat and pulling him nearer.

“Didn’t mean to wake you,” Jack murmured, kissing the corner of his mouth.

Will opened one eye and smiled. “It wasn't me you woke.” Shifting slightly, he took Jack’s hand and rested it on the pronounced curve of his belly. The movement beneath his fingers was strong, nothing like the faint stirring of months ago – a genuine kick.

“See,” he said smugly, leaning forward to rest his cheek on the spot. “Does too know me.”

“Mmm,” said Will with a sigh. He closed his eyes again and Jack took stock of the dark circles beneath them, marring the skin that had lost its tan during his time ashore.

He cupped Will’s cheek in one hand. “Are you all right, love?”

Will patted the back of his palm. “I’m fine, Jack.” He braced himself on Jack’s shoulders as he struggled upright, tugging Jack to sit beside him. The pirate captain started at something sharp poking his backside.

“Sorry,” said Will, pulling the knitting needles and a lump of green wool out of his hand. “I was making an attempt.” He dangled the thing proudly in Jack’s lap. 

Jack examined it; there appeared to be a hole for a head between both the arms and the legs. “Er, something you want to tell me about the form of this child?” He poked a finger through the extra hole.

Will scowled and snatched it back. “All right, so I’m not terribly proficient at knitting – makes my hands feel clumsy. But Elizabeth’s creation has three arms.”

“I heard that,” she called from the table. “Some people are awfully critical since they’ve become bored and housebound.”

“Some people should refrain from eavesdropping,” Will replied. He nestled against Jack, who was alarmed to feel he thinness of his arms. And his face, when he pressed it into Jack’s neck, was just slightly too warm.

He squeezed gently. Swollen belly and puffy face notwithstanding, Will felt fragile in his arms. “Sure ev’rything’s in order? You seem...” Will stiffened in his grip and Jack finished, “...a mite off.” Breakable, he’d meant to say, or perhaps ill. He held his tongue for fear that Will was even more sensitive than he’d been in the first few months.

“I’m perfectly fine,” Will said, nuzzling under his chin. “Just tired, and bored like Elizabeth said. What I need...” He caught Jack’s hand where it was checking for anything unusual at his collarbones and held it still. “What I need is to go home.” His voice dropped to a husky, wistful note.

Jack breathed in the scent of his hair. Will was safe and sound, and the child within him seemed to be healthy still. That was all he need worry about. “To th’ Pearl we go then. She’s missed you, lad.”

“Has she?” There was a teasing lilt to his words, but the tension in his body bespoke quite a different intent. Will’s soft lips were idly tracing the lines of his throat, but they too were asking questions – are you still mine, is this still what you want, has time changed your mind about all the things we dare not name? 

“Oh, aye,” said Jack with a firm nod. He ran fingertips up and down the scar on Will’s left palm, reminding him of all they had shared. “Missed your face, your voice, your touch – she’d be driven ‘pon the rocks if ever she doubted your return.”

“She has always needed a steady hand,” Will whispered, saying nothing about how Jack’s own hands trembled faintly as he brought them to his lips.

Jack cleared his throat, certain that one or both of them was going to become far too sentimental in the presence of Elizabeth and Idrana, who were trying to look as though they were not watching and failing quite spectactularly.

He held the knitted monstrosity at arm's length, studying it. “Green, eh? I’d’ve gone with somethin’ in a nice lavender, meself.”


	8. Chapter 8

“What in blazes is this?”

Will glanced up from where he was packing diapers and cloths into a trunk. Jack was gingerly holding a concoction made of straps of thick padding, covered in soft red velvet. “It’s a pudding cap. Babies wear them when they’re learning to walk so they don’t bump their heads when they fall. Or so Elizabeth and I were told by her prospective nurses.”

He went back to folding, making a face at the ache his kneeling on the floor had brought to his back. Jack was still visible out of the corner of his eye, hefting the cap in both hands. Annoyed at how easily he was distracted – the damned thing wasn’t even shiny – Will snapped, “Care to give me a hand with this, Captain?” 

His only answer was a panicked yelp.

Turning, Will saw that Jack had managed to pull the child-sized cap down over his head, where it had apparently gotten stuck. “Jack! You’re going to ruin it!” The seams were stretched and threatening to pop.

“‘S killing me,” Jack moaned, trying to slide his fingertips under the edges. “Squeezin’ all the blood from me brains...”

“What brains?” Will muttered, tugging at the silk bow on the cap’s front and merely succeeding in ripping it off. “All right,” he said, panting with exertion while Jack flailed his arms around. “Calm down, would you, and come here.” He settled down cross-legged, leaning against the bed, and crooked his finger. Sheepishly Jack knelt in front of him. “If – we just –”

Jack braced his arms on either side of Will, gripping the mattress, and bowed his head as Will tugged on the thing. He felt it start to slip, abruptly remembered the many decorations adorning Jack’s head, and steadied himself for a fit.

The captain’s scream echoed through the Pearl’s beams, startling Cotton’s parrot so badly that it took flight, fluttering into the face of Marty and causing him to spill his large pan of gruel all over the deck, the puddle of which Anamaria skidded along and fell into, cursing loudly while bumping Duncan, who thought that she was coming to peck his eyes out at last and leapt into the ocean. Will tossed Jack out of the cabin, finished packing the trunk himself and left all apologies to the captain.

 

“Will, what the hell’ve you done here?”

Reclining on the bed, Will beamed at him, arms folded over his stomach. “It looks nice, doesn’t it?”

Jack could not force his eyes open to take a second look. This was far, far worse than when he’d had to get rid of all Barbossa’s dark things.

“I picked a neutral color, for a boy or a girl,” Will continued. “And yellow is supposed to be soothing. What do you think, Jack?”

Swallowing hard, Jack very slowly opened his eyes, squinting at the pale surfaces all around him. Will had apparently taken it upon himself to paint the entire cabin, from the floors to the beams to the bedframe, the same sickly, watery shade of yellow. With the afternoon light streaming through the open door, it felt very much like being inside the sun. And something else was wrong, too.

“Where’s my...?” He wandered over to the wall, running his fingers over the blank space where his weapons rack should have been.

“Well, it was hardly safe, was it? You can’t have all those swords and pistols around an infant. Don’t worry, they’re safely stored below.”

His eyes rolling in panic, Jack fell to his knees in the far lefthand corner, before the built-in liquor cabinet. “No...oh Jesus, no...” Flinging the doors open, he found it as he’d feared: completely empty.

He raised his horrified face to Will, who finally have the grace to be a little ashamed. Looking down at the floor, Will mumbled, “It’s not responsible, how much you drink. I’m not saying you can’t, mind, only that maybe...a bit of moderation wouldn’t go amiss.”

Jack stuck his head into the cabinet, which was free of paint fumes and still smelt faintly of sweet rum.

“Jack?” He could picture Will biting his lip, hear the hopeful smile in his voice. “Don’t you want our baby to be safe and happy?” Jack didn’t reply for a long, long moment, so Will tried again. “I only...oh –”

He cursed as he pulled his head out, bumping it in the process. That last sound had definitely been distress.

“Will?” Jack bent over him, anxiously touching his face. Will was frowning, his brows knit, both hands rubbing his belly.

“It’s nothing,” he said, with a smile that was closer to a grimace. “Just kicking rather mercilessly, is all.”

With a sigh, Jack climbed in next to him, letting him press close. He glared at the ugly cabin from over the top of Will’s head. He’d just have to forbid anyone from setting foot in here, that was all. And board up the windows. And find the things Will had discarded in order to squirrel them away someplace where they wouldn’t be looted by his own men. If piss-yellow walls made Will happy, then piss-yellow walls he would have. Even if the longer Jack stared at them, the more he wanted to gouge his eyes out and leap into the cold blue sea.

“Nesting hen,” he accused the boy softly.

“Strutting cock,” Will rejoined with a chuckle, kissing Jack’s ear.

Jack patted his well-rounded behind. “Guess that’s what got us int’ this whole mess, aye?”

 

Jack was deeply entrenched in a card game with Anamaria and Gibbs when it happened. He scowled at the little girl tugging on his arm.

“Shove off, child, ‘m winnin’.”

“By whose rules?” Anamaria demanded.

Idrana glared at him, her face creased with what he suddenly realized was worry. “Is Will. Come now.” At the same time, a shout rang out for Jack from near the helm. Cards scattered everywhere as he leapt to his feet and forgot about his lucky hand.

“Man down!” the parrot squawked.

“Move!” he snarled at the knot of people gathered around Will, who was lying flat on the deck. He didn’t stir when Jack took his hand. “What happened?”

“I dunno, sir,” said Duncan, twisting his cap in his head. “‘e just...’e just fell, like.”

Jack gripped Will by the shoulders and shook him gently. “Wake up, lad.” Will’s head lolled to the side, but he didn’t stir. “Damn it, Will!”

“Lemme try, Cap’n.” Gibbs nudged him aside, pulling a little vial out from his jacket pocket. Uncapping it, he waved it under Will’s nose.

 

A smell like rotting fish wafted into Will’s nostrils, pulling him back from oblivion. He gagged, then winced as the rest of his body protested the reawakening. His body had a habit of protesting many things these days.

He forced his unwilling eyes to open, fighting a sense of vertigo. Jack and Gibbs were bent over him, looking every bit as frightened as Elizabeth had the first time he’d fainted in front of her. He tried a reassuring smile, which only served to make their frowns deepen.

“I’m all –” Starting to sit up, he wavered and covered his eyes again. Bloody tropical sun –

“Easy, love,” Jack murmured, sliding an arm beneath his shoulders. “Let’s get you t’ bed.” Will couldn’t find the energy to protest or lend much of a hand as Jack and Gibbs helped him to the cabin. Once they’d laid him down on the wonderfully soft bunk, Jack crooked his head at the door. Gibbs took the hint, giving Will a quick pat on the arm before he left.

Will tucked a pillow beneath his head, wary of the storm in Jack’s eyes. Every muscle in his body was tightly coiled and Will knew he was itching to pace the width of the room. He made himself look as sweet and innocent as he could, silently urging the baby to play along and stop battering at him.

Jack pressed his hands together in front of his chest. “William,” he said, dragging the word out with exaggerated patience. “Please. Tell me. What’s fucking going on?” His control completely frayed and he shouted the last few words.

“It’s nothing,” said Will, toying with the pillowcase. He shifted up, sitting back against the headboard as his insides churned. “I wasn’t feeling well.”

“You passed out, darling,” said Jack in a clipped tone. He had succumbed to the urge to pace and his worn boot heels made more of a dragging sound than a tap. “That’s not normal. And you don’t...Will, you don’t _look_ right.”

Will made a face at him. “I have a melon stuffed under my skin. I should hope I don’t look right.”

“I don’t mean –” Jack huffed in frustration and dropped down beside Will. “Look, it’s not just the belly and the napping and the puffy feet – I know all that comes with th’ territory. It’s somethin’ about your mouth, your eyes...” Jack framed Will’s face with both hands, pressing their foreheads together. The throbbing in Will’s temples got worse. “Just tell me ‘f anything’s wrong.”

His breathing had the slightest hitch to it and his fingers curled as he drew them down Will’s neck.

“Nothing is wrong,” said Will. Jack’s head jerked up, his eyes narrowed and suspicious, and Will knew he wasn’t going to be able to put this off any longer. “...Precisely.”

Jack immediately sat up, his posture as straight as that of the sour-faced lLatin tutor Elizabeth had chased off when she was fourteen. He looked at Will levelly. “Explain.” It was rare that he put his captain tone to use with his first mate, and even rarer that he did so in their bed.

Will leaned back, propping his tired feet on Jack’s knees. “It’s common with male pregnancies, according to Sanna. My body is well aware that I’ve forced something unnatural upon it, so it, ah, makes clear its displeasure – headaches, nausea, exhaustion, and yes, the occasional fainting spell. It started happening when I was in Port Royal. Idrana says that she’s seen the symptoms before, and mine aren’t out of the ordinary.”

“That’s all?” Jack wanted to know. He was sitting perfectly still, which always made Will nervous. “You’re sure that’s all it is?”

Squirming a bit under his steady gaze, Will amended, “Well, it gets worse the closer I get. In a little while, I’ll want to start staying out of the sun, and it might not be easy for me to get out of bed.” He snorted, remembering countless nights spent drinking with Jack, mornings after where he’d wake up with no ill effects. “Believe me, I’m not looking forward to it.”

Jack laid Will’s feet carefully aside, rising slowly. He stared at a spot on the bulkhead. “The closer you get to what, exactly? I’ve never understood what happens at the end of all this, lad – how we’re gonna bring this child into the world.”

 _You never asked_ , Will thought irritably, but this was at least something for which he had a sensible explanation. “The women told me – it’s not really a traditional birth, obviously, because I’m not built for it. The way things are laid out inside doesn’t make it possible for the baby to come out the way it got in, and in any case the pain would be...” He paused, puzzled by the way Jack suddenly turned away from him. “So they have to make a cut. And Sanna used more words than that, but they were mostly Spanish and I didn’t catch them. She kept saying sangre, and...sounded like pelican. Peli-something.”

“Peligroso.” Jack faced the door now, his head bowed.

Will smiled at him, although he couldn’t see it. Uneasiness was beginning to push physical discomfort from his mind. “That was it. What does it mean?”

“Peligroso means dangerous. Sangre is blood.” His voice was flat, his hands inert at his sides.

Will pulled the pillow up, tucked it beneath his arms. “Oh,” he said in a small voice.

Jack shook his head from side to side. When he spoke, his voice was very, very soft. “I should never’ve let you go through with this.”

“Let me?” said Will indignantly. “I seem to recall you saying that it was entirely up to me.”

He spun around, his eyes blazing and his face contorted, and Will felt a tiny thread of fear chill his blood. “That’s because I’m stupid! I’m stupid, an’ it’s all your fault! I didn’t bloody know because you didn’t bloody _tell_ me what was what, did you? 'Don't worry, Jack, everything'll be fine, Jack, I _feel_ it! ‘F I’d realize what would happen, what you’d have to – Jesus, Will, do you understand how easily you could die because of this ill-begotten notion?”

Will pushed up on his elbows, matching him glare for glare and shout for shout. “Don’t talk to me about death. I watched my mother fade away with none but myself to care for her, I saw all the people on that cargo ship meet their ends from Barbossa’s cannons, I’ve spent two fucking years on board one of the most infamous pirate vessels in the Caribbean – how dare you treat me like some untried boy who’s never been marked or wounded or scarred!”

“Will, I –” 

“Do you know what I’ve learned about death, Jack? I’ve learned that it comes upon us by random chance, whether we are good men or bad men or somewhere in between. I’ve learned that to die is a terrible thing, but to die with no purpose, no meaning, no love, nothing to protect – that is more terrible by far. And if I lose my life because of my decision, at least it will be because I stood up for something I wanted, not because I was too afraid to take chances.”

He lay back, pressing his palm to his hammering heart. There was not enough strength in him for such a display, and he could only try to still his breathing as Jack crumpled onto the bed beside him.

“Pretty as that sentiment is, love, I’d take no comfort in it if you were gone from me.”

Will bit his lip at the despair in Jack’s tone. Looking at his face, it was suddenly so easy to remember that he was nearly twice Will’s age – thirty-nine last October, which was certainly not old, and normally he didn’t look it. But now, with his eyes worried and sad, his brow furrowed, his lips thinned, he looked very weary, and Will was wracked with guilt for having caused it.

“Oh, Jack,” he whispered, reaching for him, “I should have told you sooner. I’m sorry for that.”

With a heavy sigh, Jack curled up against him, arms going around the bulge at his middle. “And I’m sorry for losing me temper, ‘specially with you in this condition. It’s just...” He pressed a tender kiss to Will’s distended navel.

“I know,” said Will, brushing his tangled hair back, rolling the beads and trinkets between his fingertips, wondering if the child would be terrified or fascinated by the unruly mess. “We’ll be back at the island in a few days. I think I’ll feel better there.”

 

Will didn’t improve when they reached the island. At first Sanna wanted to install him in the women’s tent, but after Jack pitched a fit about not being allowed inside, they set up a smaller, more private temporary home for them both. 

He spent most of his time lying on a thickly padded mat, trying to rest in the brutal heat. Every morning and evening when the weather was cooler, Jack would coax him out for a walk along the beach. Although Will enjoyed the faint breeze and the waves lapping at his feet, he hated having to lean on Jack for support and the curious stares he got from the tribe. They weren’t hostile, but he shrank from them all the same.

For his part, Jack put on a sunny face, determined not to let the boy see how unsettled he was. He'd take any foul temper over the gauntness of Will’s face, the way his hands trembled, the quickness with which he lost his breath. Even suffering so, Will was solicitous of the child within him, often losing himself in thought while his hands drifted over his belly.

It was miserably still one afternoon, one of those days when Jack had to steel his nerves in order to push the tent flap open and enter the dark, bare space. Will stirred from where he lay on the pallet, lifting his head. His dark hair clung to his brow and he had stripped off his shirt.

“Water?” Jack knelt beside him, holding out the flask.

“Mmmm,” Will replied, swallowing nearly all of it in one gulp. It was too hot to press against Jack as he was wont to do, so he merely clung to his hand.

Jack smiled at him, deciding his color didn’t look any worse than yesterday. “Anything else you want, love?”

“No.” Will paused, eyes thoughtful. “Well...there is one thing.”

“Name it.”

He squeezed Jack’s hand. “Tell me a story?”

“You know all my stories,” said Jack.

“A new one, then,” Will suggested. “Please?”

Jack sighed, powerless against those brown eyes. “What sort of story?” He settled back into a cross-legged sprawl.

“A fairy tale,” said Will decisively.

“Ah, practice, is that it? Let’s see – where to begin...” Jack stroked his braided beard, warming to the prospect. It would get Will’s mind off of his discomfort, at the very least. “Once upon a time, there was a handsome prince –” 

“Is that supposed to be me?” Will interrupted, a skeptical twist to his mouth. “Or you?”

Jack tapped his wrist in admonition. “He’s not supposed to be anyone. Do you want your story or don’t you?” Will nodded solemnly and Jack cleared his throat. “Anyway, like I was sayin’, once upon a time there was a handsome prince. Only he didn’t know he was a prince, see, because he lived in a little cottage with a poor woodcutter.”

“How did that happen?”

“When the prince was born, there was another lass in the castle havin’ her babe and it didn’t survive the birth.” Belatedly he realized that this might not have been the ideal beginning, so he added, “So the prince’s mam, the queen, she’s just had twins and she tells the midwife to give one baby to the poor woman with none.”

Thankfully Will only looked intrigued, not disturbed. “How did they choose which one to give up?”

“Nobody’d told her which was what yet, so she ordered ‘em not to and picked one with her eyes closed. The boy baby was given to the woodcutter’s wife, who told her husband he was their own, and the girl baby stayed in the palace to grow up a princess.”

“That doesn’t seem exactly fair.”

“Well, no, but the little prince had hisself a good life nonetheless, ‘cept some part of him knew that he was destined for greater things. There were days he’d creep off alone to a bluff overlookin’ the whole kingdom, just sit on his own and feel like his heart was too big for his small home, and there was something waiting for him beyond where the sun set.”

“Was he a good person?”

Jack grinned down at him, brushing fingertips over the back of his palm. “Aye, he was kind and generous and modest, and I b’lieve I already mentioned his stunning good looks. Had to beat the nearby village girls off wi’ a stick.”

Will snorted doubtfully. “What about the princess?”

“She grew up beautiful and brave, though perhaps a bit more headstrong than her folks would’ve liked. But she too had this ache in her like there was something she didn’t know yet, something she was meant to strike out on her own and find.”

“Didn’t they ever meet?”

“I’m gettin’ to that part. Now, when the princess and the prince what didn’t know he was had passed their eighteenth birthdays, a mysterious, dashing stranger came to the kingdom.”

“What a surprise,” said Will in a dry voice.

“Hush, whelp,” Jack scolded, imagination tumbling off into vast stretches of possibility. “This stranger was from a far-off land; though he claimed no kingdom as his own, he’d been born a rich and powerful baron. He was in the realm searching for an evil sorcerer who’d stolen his family’s most precious heirloom: a jewel set in gold.”

“Let me guess. It was a black pearl.”

“As a matter of fact, it was – but not just any pearl. No, this one was bigger’n me fist and flawless throughout. It was priceless no matter where it traveled, but that wasn’t why the baron chased it. It was an especial boon to his name, y’see, gave him all sorts of power, and he was lost without it. So he trailed the thief, who protected himself with a band of great stinking ogres. They ravaged town after town in their wake, including the one just outside the prince’s forest. His pa, or the man he thought was his pa, had been into town that day for market and he was cut down by the ogres. The wife having died of fever some years before, the prince suddenly found himself alone in the world. He packed what few things he had and began to make his way to the capital, to seek work and to warn the royal fam’ly about the raiders. Goin’ down the road one day, he ran into the baron, who had been working a delicate spell tryin’ to get a fix on the sorcerer and the stolen pearl. So his work upset, the baron challenges the young prince to a fair duel.” 

“Are you sure that’s how it happened?”

“Positive. Now the prince had studied the blade with any and all knights passing through the village, and he’d had a lot of time on his hands to practice, because really his days weren’t too exciting. And he was young and limber and his blood ran hot, so though the baron was a skilled swordsman of many years’ experience, the duel ended in a draw. Once he’d gotten the prince to calm down a trifle, the two learned that they were bound for the same destination. They decided to travel together for safety.”

“I’m sure that was the baron’s only interest in the young, handsome prince.”

The cruel lethargy had left Will’s eyes, and he looked so bright with his teasing that Jack had to pause to kiss his nose. “He was intrigued, to be sure, but the lad had such a keen mind and a purity like he’d never seen, and he knew a quick tumble wasn’t in the cards for the two days it would take to get to the palace. But as they walked along the road, they talked and they joked and they got along quite famously – so much so that the prince began to wonder if shyness might not be the only reason he’d been running away from the village girls for years.”

“Speaking of girls, I don’t think the princess would appreciate being left out of the tale for so long.”

“By the powers, you’re right,” Jack exclaimed, smacking his own knee. “She was a spunky lass going through scads of suitors by the time the prince and the baron arrived. They’d managed to beat the sorcerer’s gang there, but only just: the palace was attacked about ten seconds into their audience with the royal family. Ten seconds, however, was enough time for the prince to spot the princess and –”

“He can’t fall madly in love with his own sister!”

“Ah, I see you fear the very thing the baron feared when the two young things locked eyes. It’s not strict accurate to say that the prince fell in love with her, but he did get this shock right at that very second that she was part of the great something he’d gone out into the world to seek. And the princess, she looked back at him and she knew it too. They were connected from the beginning and they always would be. Anyone looking could see that plain as day. Anyhow, ‘fore either the baron or the prince could get a word in about their respective troubles, the sorcerer’s ogres come crashing into the royal chamber. The brave knights of the realm were doin’ their steel-plated best to protect their people, but ogres are notoriously hard to kill. Dumb as rocks, too, but they had the sorcerer lookin’ in through his magic crystal. He spotted the princess and quicker’n you can blink, they had the girl tucked in a sack and carted away. Once the smoke cleared, the king and the queen begged for their most courageous fighters to rescue the stolen princess. The prince immediately offered his services, as did the baron on the basis that it would lead him to the sorcerer.”

“And he’d get a chance for some more –” Will yawned hugely, throwing his head back on the pillow. “– staring at the prince’s rear?”

“So cynical for one so young. There were other volunteers, too,” he continued, softening his voice as Will’s face got drowsier. “A young knight rallied a number of his compatriots around him. He was in love with the princess, y’see, but too damned much of a coward to actually speak to her. So they all ride off after the evil sorcerer...” Will’s eyelids fluttered closed. “And perhaps we’ll leave the conclusion of this tale for another day.”

The boy frowned, forcing himself back awake. “No, I want to hear the end. Just...quickly, if you please?”

“All right then, the whittled-down version. They find the sorcerer and the lass, she helps them save the day and the incomparable jewel, the shy knight professes his undying love to her, and the baron is free to bend the young prince back in a breathtaking kiss before they ride off into the sunset.”

Will tucked his hands under his head. “That’s a good ending,” he said, eyes closed once more. “Happy ever after.”

“Aye,” said Jack, tucking a curl behind his ear, feeling his throat tighten. “Aye, that’s how it was, and how it shall ever be.”

“Promise?” Will murmured.

He was asleep before he could catch Jack’s reply. “You don’t know how much I wish I could, lad.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm afraid this where I leave you - it was the last bit written in November 2004.


End file.
